


On Bended Knee

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Domestic Disputes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mood Swings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Oral Sex, POV Armitage Hux, Rimming, Secret Identity, Sharing a Bed, sugar daddy fail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-02-16 19:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Armitage Hux, just out of an unhealthy long term relationship with an older man, is on vacation. On his first night, the complete stranger from the next room proposes. Thehandsomecomplete stranger with shoulders that look like he could wrestle a ram and hair that would make a poet weep.Armitage says yes.That’s no basis for a lasting relationship. Is it?





	1. Follow my lead

**Author's Note:**

> Loook!  
> Ellalba made art of Ben’s proposal. It is here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21897700/chapters/52266349#workskin  
> [hope this link works](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21897700/chapters/52266349#workskin)

Armitage emerges from a sauna-like cab into a furnace of late afternoon sun, waits for the driver to get his cabin-sized case for him, pays and looks up at the grand facade of the limestone building which had clearly aspired to be a castle once. The brass sign that graces the arch above the glass double doors declares, in foot-high lettering, that he has arrived at the Mar Y Palmeras Resort. He looks around. The sea can’t be seen from the front of the edifice but there certainly are palm trees, their slender trunks curving up to feather a flawless blue sky with lush green. With a feeling deep in his chest that he can’t quite name, he lifts his case and climbs the stone steps up to the doors, forcing a smile and a tired, “thanks,” when a smartly dressed employee swings the nearest one open for him and calls for a porter.  
“The rest of your luggage, sir?”  
“Ah, this is all of it,” says Armitage, pointing at his carry-on case. “I can manage— Oh. Thank you.”  
“This way, sir.” The porter lifts Armitage’s case and leads Armitage to reception where a smiling young woman gives him forms to sign, checks his passport and scans his credit card, then hands him a passkey.  
“Will there be another member of your party joining us?” the receptionist asks.  
Armitage purses his lips. “No,” he said. “There’s only me.”  
“We are rather busy this time of year,” she says with a diplomatic smile. “Would you like to be moved to one of our premium single rooms instead of the double you booked?”  
Armitage frowns for the first time since arriving. “Absolutely not,” he snaps. “I booked a sea-view double and I am paying for a sea-view double so I expect to have a double room. From which I can see the sea.”  
“Of course, sir,” the receptionist replies with the expression of someone who doesn’t care one way or the other. “If you need anything, call zero from your room phone. Have a pleasant stay.”

The porter lifts his case again and leads Armitage to the elevators. They go up to the third floor, along a passageway with a burgundy patterned carpet, almost to the very end, and into a spacious double room with a sleek modern feel that seems at odds with the outside of the building. The porter points out all the room’s features, asks Armitage if he would like his case unpacked and his clothes ironed, then quietly sets about the task when Armitage nods. There are French windows leading out to a balcony. Armitage takes refuge here, watching blue-green waves roll and tumble into white lace until the porter finishes unpacking for him, then gives him a generous tip and a smile as he leaves. With a sigh, he looks around his home for the next week. As romantic vacation destinations go, his ex could have chosen worse.

Not that he’s here. 

Armitage flips through the guide to the resort and hotel then checks the time. Dinner is in an hour, then there is a choice of quiet drinks in the lounge bar or entertainment at the beachside bar where, according to the guide, local entertainers are invited to showcase their talent. He scoffs at the thought then remembers how _someone_ would have pulled a face at the idea of a free band and a beach bar. _Someone_ would have insisted on going to the lounge and sipping cocktails whilst talking about worthy topics and sneering at less privileged or less traditionally educated guests. Well then, Armitage thinks. He’d told _someone_ to go suck a wampa’s icicle dick and now he’s here to have fun on his own. A drink on the beach with the sound of the surf drowning out some hopeful acoustic crooner sounded perfect.

The bathroom is spotless. Armitage inspects the tiles (sparkling), strokes and squeezes all the folded towels (fluffy), and draws his fingers along the fabric of the hotel bathrobes (soft waffle weave). He strips, dropping his travel outfit on the floor, and luxuriates in the shower, then towels off, combs his hair back and puts on a robe. He uses the toiletries the airline provided with his club class ticket to shave and brush his teeth, styles his hair and wanders into the main room to choose an outfit for dinner. He checks the time again. Twenty minutes. The sun is setting over the sea so Armitage steps out onto his balcony to watch the sky blaze orange and pink before he dresses for dinner. Listening to the waves swell and crash on the shore, he can almost taste the salt in the air.

“Hi.”  
Armitage frowns and looks around him.  
“Hi? Over here.”  
He looks to his left. There is a man standing on the next balcony. He nods. “Good evening.”  
“Great view,” the man says, watching Armitage. Armitage smiles and looks at him for a few seconds longer than is strictly polite. He’s tall, has broad shoulders and a mane of unruly black hair.  
“Yes,” he agrees. “A very nice view.”  
The man just smiles back. Armitage gives a half-hearted wave and goes back into his room to get dressed.

The dining room is decorated in ochres and deep golden burnished wood with colourful table cloths and napkins. Armitage smiles when he sees it. _Someone_ would have hated this display of kitsch so he decides to find it charming. The host greets him with a smile and he gives his room number on request. Her face lights up even brighter.  
“Welcome, Mr. Hux. This way.”  
Armitage follows her to a table in a good position for watching the rest of the room. He frowns when he realises he has a dinner partner, and he’s about to say there’s been some mistake when he hears a voice he has heard before.  
“Hello again, neighbour.”  
He looks up and smiles.“Good evening. Are you also here on your own?”  
“Yes,” the man says. “Well, not exactly. My cousin and I were vacationing with her friends but she backed out and now I’m stuck as their third wheel.” Armitage looks in the direction he indicates with a glare and a nod. He pulls a face as the two men leaning across the table to murmur to each other exude happy coupledom.  
“I was supposed to be accompanied by my boyfriend,” Armitage says, unsure of why he would tell a stranger something so personal. “But we broke up. I found out that he planned to propose and I suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of fitting the rest of my life around his.” Armitage shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Unfortunate things were said. I’m here and he’s not.”  
The other man smiles and puffs out a laugh. “You win,” he says. “You are the most pathetic, saddest single person here. I’m Ben, by the way.”  
“Speak for yourself,” Armitage says, laughing. “At least I’m not here with a couple of lovebirds who are actively trying to ditch me. I’m Armitage.”

Over fig and blue cheese mini flatbreads, Ben and Armitage bitch generally about terrible exes. Over pan fried tilapia with herb crust and fresh salad (and a bottle of house white), they discuss what their ideal partners might be like. Over miniature, but very rich, chocolate puddings, they laugh about romance in general. Armitage realises that the feeling he had been unable to identify as he looked up at the hotel entrance has lifted. He’s tentatively calculating the chances of having dinner with Ben again and he does not dread the week ahead at all. 

Armitage looks across the table at Ben and returns his quiet smile. Ben fumbles his hands just under the table, looks beyond Armitage and nods, then leans close and mutters, _”Follow my lead, okay?”_ Armitage frowns, looks around and sees only the restaurant host and another server carrying an ice bucket and two champagne glasses, waiting by a nearby table. The server has a phone in his hand and Armitage tuts at the unprofessionalism. When he turns back to ask Ben what he’s talking about, he almost yells in surprise. Ben has slid from his chair and is on one knee beside Armitage. He smiles and Armitage thinks he sees the briefest flutter of one eyelid.  
“Armitage, I know we have known each other for a relatively short time, but I would be honoured if you would agree to be my husband.” Ben holds up the signet ring he had been wearing until a minute ago. “Will you make me the happiest man alive, Armie?”  
Stunned, jaw gaping and eyes wide open, Armitage takes a few shallow breaths that make his head reel. He steadies his breath to reply.  
“Please say yes,” Ben speaks so quietly Armitage has to lean forward to hear. “Just go along with it.”  
Realisation flows over Armitage and washes off his incipient panic. The hotel staff are expecting someone to propose. To him. His ex must have told them when he booked. _Well then,_ he thinks as a smile spreads over his face. _I suppose we can drink his champagne._ He holds out his left hand for the chunky gold and onyx ring, summons a delighted smile and a tear or two and says, “Of course I will, my darling!”

The restaurant erupts into applause. The champagne cork pops and someone cheers, two glasses are filled and brought to Ben and Armitage while the host congratulates them with a wide smile. As they are sipping their second flutes of Champagne, Ben’s ring slipping on Armitage’s finger to clink against the glass, a tall woman with white-blonde hair and startling blue eyes walks over and smiles.  
“Congratulations,” she says. “I’m Phasma and I’m the manager. I am delighted to be able to tell you that you have a free room upgrade into our Supreme Suite.” Phasma looks around, making sure everyone has heard, and some might even tweet about the hotel’s grand gesture. “Your things are being moved into your new room for you so you don’t have to lift a finger.” She holds out two new key cards. She checks the room again and flicks her hair to catch more attention. “I’m sure you’ll have a lovely stay. It’s our best room. There’s a big balcony with a view over the ocean, a spa tub, double shower and... well.” She laughs. Armitage has never before heard a laugh that actually _cackles._ “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how to spend your evening.” More quietly she adds, “Stop by the office tomorrow after breakfast and we can discuss which pictures to use for publicity.”

Armitage’s face freezes over but Ben shakes her hand and thanks her effusively. Someone calls over, “Hey, over here!” and takes a photo when they turn. “You gotta kiss now. You just got engaged. Let’s see that kiss!”  
“Leave it off, Dameron,” says Ben, smile slipping away.  
“Ah, just kiss your new fiancé. What’s the problem? Are you saving your lips for the wedding day, Solo?” Dameron looks positively gleeful and the man with him looks like he’s trying to disappear. Armitage shrugs at Ben and says quietly. “It’s just a kiss. No big deal. Push your seat back and follow my lead.”  
Ben frowns at him, but shoves his seat further from the table. Armitage gets up, stomach churning, perches sideways on Ben’s lap, strokes his hair, cradles his face and kisses him on the lips. Just once, just for a second, then he gets up and returns to his own seat. When he looks round, the man called Dameron has his phone out and is busy tapping at it.  
“Facebook? Your mom will love this.”  
“Don’t post that yet.” Armitage has shot the words out before he can stop himself. “My folks might see it and I want to be able to break the good news myself.”  
Dameron hesitates, the first sign of doubt showing in the slight crease of his brow. The man with him squeezes his arm and mutters, “C’mon, Poe.”  
“Fine, fine, okay,” Dameron says, speaking to Armitage but pointing at Ben. “Finn agrees with you. You’re lucky my fiancé is nicer than yours.”

When the fuss settles down, Ben and Armitage leave the restaurant hand in hand. They let go in the lobby and Armitage sighs. “Supreme Suite sounds nice.”  
“Yeah,” Ben says. “Sorry I sprung that on you. You were superb, by the way. The look of terror on your face was a particularly nice touch.”  
“That was a reflection of my genuine fear of commitment.” He leaned close and said, “You do realise we have to keep up this act all week?” He’s close enough to detect the woody, musky scent of Ben’s aftershave but he can’t turn his head and look at Ben. His heart is thumping in his chest and he feels woozy again. He grips Ben’s arm a little tighter.  
“Yeah,” Ben says. “I didn’t think that through. Before dinner, I saw the champagne behind the bar and the manager asked me if I was _popping the question tonight._ I thought, ‘hey free stuff’. Why not play along. We could ask to go back into our own rooms if it’s awkward.”  
“Let’s do that.” Armitage ambles up to reception while Ben hangs back. After a discussion, he returns, shaking his head. “Can you believe they already let both our rooms to couples arriving tonight?”  
Ben laughs. “I bet the Supreme Suite was vacant and nobody wanted to pay for it.”  
Armitage looks towards the wide glass doors at the back of the hotel where he can see flickering orange and yellow from fires on the beach. “I’m going to have a drink at the beach bar. You should probably come with me. I think we have something to discuss.”

The beach bar is only just starting to get busy. Armitage claims a table while Ben gets drinks and brings them back they sit in silence while a singer tunes her guitar and strums a few chords then launches into a folksy ballad that nobody is really listening to, but they applaud when she finishes all the same and she plays another. When Armitage can trust himself to look at Ben, he says, “So.”  
Ben grins. “So what?”  
Something inside Armitage snaps. He leans forward, voice low and face like a thundercloud. “So my ex boyfriend was going to propose and I dumped him over it. So you propose instead. So we are, technically, engaged. So we are sharing a room and everyone thinks you’re my fiancé. So don’t you think springing that on a total stranger was maybe a little insensitive?” Armitage stops for breath. Ben is just looking at him, waiting. “So what if my ex sees this?” He glares at Ben.  
Ben shrugs. “You could’ve said no. Do you want to get back with your ex?”  
“No,” Armitage says with a sigh. “But I feel... I don’t know. Something.”  
“You worry too much,” Ben says. “Did you like the Champagne neither of us paid for? Will you refuse to use the spa bath in the Supreme Suite? Why look any further?” He leans closer. “Look, it doesn’t matter. We share a _suite_ for the week. That’s way better than the rooms we had. All we have to do is be seen having dinner together and holding hands occasionally. It’s not like we have to make out or even kiss again.” Ben leans closer then swipes the empty glass from in front of Armitage and laughs.  
“Lighten up.”

Ben heads for the bar again. Armitage watches the firelight and half-listens to the singer. She’s the soulful type and it suits his mood. When someone slides onto the seat opposite him, he’s ready with a smile. But it’s not Ben. He frowns. “You’re Dameron, right?”  
“Yeah, buddy. Look, just a word of warning. He does this you know?”  
“No,” Armitage deepens his frown. “I don’t know.”  
“This is his fourth fake engagement that I know of. He got his cousin Rey in on it this time but she had to bail. I guess you were the best he could get.”  
“Oh.” Armitage grits his teeth. “Well then. Thank you for telling me. Now please assume that I am an intelligent adult and go away.”  
“Whatever you say, buddy. Maybe he’s met someone who really deserves him this time.”  
“You’re in my seat.” Armitage looks up and smiles at Ben, louring over Dameron with a glass in each hand. Dameron shakes his head and gets up.  
“Jeez, I think you two are made for each other.” He pats Ben on the arm and winks at Armitage. “G’night.” 

Armitage sips his drink slowly, sitting with Ben, listening to the music over the crackling fires in the fire-rings and the buzzing chatter at the bar and the crashing waves in the distance. He yawns and stands. That’s when he realises how much he’s had to drink. “I suppose we shouldn’t put it off any longer,” he says. “Let’s go see what our new room is like.”  
“But I like it here,” says Ben, a little petulance creeping into his voice.  
“That’s fine,” Armitage replies, shrugging. “Stay here. On the night I got engaged to the man of my dreams I will go up to our fancy suite. Alone.”  
Ben grins and Armitage sees that his cheeks are glowing from the alcohol and the firelight. “Aw, I’m really the man of your dreams?”  
“I didn’t say they were _good_ dreams,” Armitage says with a smirk. “Maybe we can work something out for the rest of our stay but I need sleep. I’m going up to our suite now, unless you feel like carrying your passed-out fake-fiancé bridal-style to bed later.” He watches Ben’s face for a reaction then adds, “before _you_ crash out on the sofa.”  
“Fine, okay,” Ben says, getting up. He yawns too and they walk slowly into the hotel. 

The Supreme Suite is well named. Armitage stops so abruptly when he walks into the main room that Ben barges into him and sends him staggering a step or two forwards. Ben gets a growl as reward for his carelessness. There are two plush sofas, two-seaters, facing a large TV screen. A coffee table supports an ice bucket that contains another bottle of sparkling wine, although Armitage is in charge of his faculties just enough to recognise that it is a cheaper variety than the bottle they shared after dinner. He walks through into the bedroom where a huge bed dominates the room. It’s a four poster and that sets Armitage off in a fit of giggles. Behind him, Ben laughs.  
“You’re drunk,” he says.  
“Sorry,” Armitage replies. “I was tired and a bit jet lagged then there was... dinner and... and all that.”  
Ben disappears and Armitage feels his absence like a chill. He sways slightly. There’s a clunk and a rattle then Ben’s back. “I put the fizz in the fridge. Found some water. Here, drink it.”  
Hux takes the bottle and drains half of it. Ben steers him into the bathroom. “You’re okay, right? I mean, not going to throw up?”  
“No,” Armitage points. “She was right about the shower. It’s enormous! Hey, where’s the spa tub?”  
“It’s in the other room. Opens right onto the balcony.” Armitage chokes on his water. Ben laughs. “Yeah I don’t see us using that.”  
Armitage’s face heats up for no reason other than that Ben said _us_ in the context of using the spa bath. Ben is silent for a few seconds. ”Okay,” he says eventually. “I’m getting us both more water then you’re going to bed.”  
“What about you?” Armitage says, staring at the sink, avoiding Ben’s reflection in the large mirror above it.  
“Sofa, I suppose, like you said.”  
“You won’t fit,” Armitage points out. “Have the bed.”  
“But—”  
“Is there a problem?” Armitage enunciates as clearly as only a tipsy person pretending to be completely sober can. “The sofas are too small. The bed is bi-i-ig. I promise I am not coming on to you. I want to sleep. I want you to sleep. We can share.”  
“Okay, I suppose that makes sense.” Ben says, glancing at Armitage then looking away. There’s no doubt this time, Armitage thinks. He’s embarrassed about something.  
“Out with it,” Armitage snaps.  
Ben looks startled. “What, here? Now?”  
“Yes! Tell me what’s bothering you about sharing that enormous bed. Seriously, I have slept in entire rooms with smaller square-footage than that bed. Do I need to shower? I mean, I probably do but—”  
“No!” Ben does a little shimmy as if to shake off his troubles. “It’s just I usually sleep, um, nude.”  
Armitage pokes his finger into Ben’s chest. “Not tonight, darling.”

Armitage flattens his hand on Ben’s chest and gently shoves him backwards out of the bathroom. He has a quick shower and emerges wearing a robe and carrying his clothes. His case is in the wardrobe—empty. He frowns at it and turns when Ben clears his throat. Ben is leering and holding up Armitage’s pyjama shorts.  
“They unpacked our stuff and mixed it up. I found your PJs in my underwear drawer.” He shakes the plaid cotton shorts. “Mmhmm, so _so_ sexy.”  
“Shut up,” Armitage says, grabbing them, turning around and pulling them on under the robe. He drops the robe and roots around in the drawers to find a tee shirt to wear. He finds one, shakes it out and pulls it on. It drowns him. Ben’s face crinkles and he laughs until his eyes water. Armitage just stands there with his face in his hands.  
“This is your shirt,” he says.  
Ben controls his breathing enough to speak but there’s a giggle bubbling underneath his words. “Please keep it on. You look so _cute!_ ”  
“I will,” Armitage says, getting into bed. “Mine now. G’night.”  
He’s fast asleep when Ben slides into the other side of the bed five minutes later.

Sunlight diffuses into the room through translucent blinds and a few cries and wails of gulls penetrate Armitage’s torpor. He feels the mattress move, mumbles _Moden?_ and opens his eyes when the presence in the room is unfamiliar and the lingering sleep-warm scent sends a message directly to his dick. Then remembers why he is not alone.  
“Sorry, did I wake you?” The voice is deeper yet softer. Ben is standing by the French windows, looking back over his shoulder at him.  
“No, I was waking up anyway,” Armitage says. He takes in the sight of Ben’s broad shoulders and bulging biceps stretching the fabric and seams of his shirt, then he narrows his eyes and frowns. “What are you wearing? That looks like—”  
“Yeah, sorry, I borrowed one of your shirts to sleep in. Seemed fair since you took one of mine.” Ben shrugs and smiles. Armitage rolls his eyes.  
“You’ve ruined it.” He knows he should be angry, demand a replacement, but he feels calm. And he can’t take his eyes off the sliver of tanned skin that shows when Ben turns back to the window, yawns and stretches. He gets out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom. 

When he returns, relaxed and still half asleep, Ben is making coffee with the machine that clicks, gurgles and hisses. Ben hands him a mug. Without thinking, Armitage takes it, yawns, says, “Thanks babe,” and kisses him on the cheek. Ben takes a sharp breath in and a step back. Armitage sloshes his coffee as he thumps the mug onto the countertop and covers his face with both hands.  
“Shit! I did’t mean to do that. Sorry. I’m not awake yet.”  
Ben laughs. “It’s okay. I guess your breakup is still pretty raw. Is Moden your ex? You called me that when I got out of bed.”  
“I don’t want to hear his name right now,” replies Armitage. “I found out he already had the wedding all planned.”  
“Without asking?” Ben says, one eyebrow raised. “What a dick.”  
Armitage snorts out a laugh. “He’s older than me and makes more money so that gives him a rather unfortunate attitude at times. I didn’t mind when he applied his paternalistic values to other people, but I took offence when he applied them to me.”  
“How did you meet?” Ben asks, then shakes his head. “Does’t matter. You don’t want to t—”  
“He was a friend of my father’s. I was eighteen and he was thirty-nine. He was... nice. Mature. I was flattered that he liked me.”  
“Ok—”  
“But he treated me like something he’d earned.” Armitage sighs. “It took _this_ for me to realise that he saw me as... as... an extra arm or leg or something. A piece of furniture.”  
“Oooh!” Ben puts his hand over his mouth. “You were supposed to be a trophy husband!”  
Armitage gives him a withering look. “Well groomed and polite. I suppose that’s what I was.”  
“And now?” Ben drains his mug, takes Armitage’s and pops the coffee machine open.  
“And now I have either made a break for freedom and individuality or turned down a lifelong meal ticket.”  
Ben turns and smiles. “Well, I’m glad you broke up. It means I get to use the Supreme Suite.”  
“Well then,” Armitage says. “What about you? Single? History?”  
Ben shrugs and says two words. “Poe Dameron.”

They drink coffee in silence, shower and dress separately after sorting the randomly unpacked clothing to avoid any more mistakes. Armitage waits for Ben in the doorway. When Ben catches up, he says, “I think you should kiss me again and I should kiss you. In front of people. Just so we look like a couple. And we should have a dry run so it doesn’t look fake.”  
“I suppose we should. You want to go first since I already embarrassed myself once this morning?”  
Ben gives Armitage the quickest peck on the cheek and Armitage laughs. “I’m not some ancient relative. It has to be believable. Like this.”  
Armitage slides a hand into Ben’s hair and kisses him gently on the lips. It only lasts a couple of seconds but it raises his heart rate just the same. When he pulls back, Ben kisses Armitage the same way and Armitage has to hold back, remind himself that it’s only for show. His face warms up when he feels the urge to wrap his arms around Ben, pull their bodies together, drag him back into the room and devour him. They leave together, but they don’t look at each other until they’re out of the elevator and walking into the dining room for breakfast.

After coffee and pastries and quiet chat about their plans for the day, they leave the restaurant. As they pass reception, a familiar, professionally cheerful voice calls out.  
“Ah! It’s the lover boys. Would you step into my office for a few minutes?” Armitage looks over at the statuesque blonde and his heart sinks. They must have given something away. Dameron must have said something. They are about to be presented with the bill for a week’s stay in the most expensive room in town. But Phasma is smiling. “We need to agree on publicity.”  
Ben grins. “Of course! And if you have any good photographs we’d love a couple to—“  
“Yes,” she says. “Everyone loves a couple.”  
Ben and Armitage exchange a look then follow Phasma into her office. She turns her screen around so they can see the photographs and video taken by hotel staff, and the resort’s social media timelines. Ben points at a photo of Armitage sitting on his lap and kissing him. “Oh I like that one,” he says.  
Phasma taps her teeth with her pencil. “Here’s the thing,” she says. “The man who emailed ahead to inform us of the impending proposal, and who agreed to take part in a publicity photoshoot then allow us to take video of the happy couple enjoying the luxuries of this resort, was called Commander Moden Canady. You,” she says, looking at Ben and pointing at the small photo Armitage recognises as the one Moden used as his email avatar, “are not Commander Canady.”


	2. Five seconds

Armitage feels his head spin and there’s a distressing chance that his breakfast will reappear.  
“But—” he says. Phasma holds up her hand.  
“Not to worry. All we need to do is video you two instead. Makes no difference to me although I hoped Commander Canady might appeal to the competitive over-fifty demographic.”  
“But it might make a difference to us,” Ben says. “I assume Canady was going to be paid for his services?”  
“What do you think is paying for the champagne and the room upgrade?” Phasma snaps.  
“No.” Armitage shakes his head. “That can’t be right. Moden would have bargained for more than a couple of bottles of bubbly and an upgrade into a room that cost almost the same as two premium doubles. You’re making more on having us share the supreme suite than you would if we were in the original rooms we already paid for and the fancy suite was empty. If you give me a minute I could calculate how much you—”  
“All right! No need.” Phasma’s face is drawn into a scowl. “Let me put it another way. You will play the happy newly-betrothed and take part in all the publicity already agreed with Commander Canady. If you refuse you will be at the mercy of the resort owner’s legal team, and I’ve heard nobody wins against that new hotshot, Kylo Ren, from Snoke Legal.”  
Ben grimaces at the mention of the biggest name in the biggest big-name law firm. “Uh, Armitage darling? Do you think you could see your way to continuing this... this—”  
“—perfectly aboveboard, out-of-the-blue engagement—“  
“—for another few days?”  
“Yes, Ben darling. I suppose that means we can drop the act when we’re not being videoed.”  
“Oh no.” Phasma waves a finger and laughs. _Oh-ho-ho-no._ “I won’t risk any of our guests replying to our official social media posts saying it’s all fake and you’re acting. This must look and feel genuine.”  
Armitage looks at Ben for a few seconds then Ben nods. “We’ll do it,” he says. “When do we start?”

There’s a slender, dark haired woman with the bluest eyes Armitage has ever seen waiting for them outside the office. Phasma introduces her as Unamo and informs them that she will be following them around, capturing natural looking moments of their stay in a way that showcases the resort’s best features.  
“Why don’t we start at the wellness centre then film lunch in the restaurant, afternoon by the pool, go back to the restaurant for dinner and finish in the suite?” Unamo suggests. “If we get a few good shots of you both enjoying the double shower and the spa bath with its view of sunset over the sea today then I can let you have privacy in there for the rest of your stay. Tomorrow we can focus on the beach, the bars and the resort shopping experience. All that’s left after that is the wider experience of the area so we’ve booked you on a couple of fun excursions.”  
“I’m not paying for all that,” growls Armitage. Unamo laughs.  
“All part of the deal, sir. Did Phas forget to say? Anything we need you to do for the camera is paid for by First Order Resorts, who just bought out the Mar Y Palmeras.”  
Armitage looks at Ben, eyebrows raised. Ben’s delighted grin says more than words could convey. When Unamo excuses herself to speak with Phasma for a few minutes, Ben murmurs, “We need to ditch her for an hour and plan how we’re going to get the most out of this.”  
“Agreed,” Armitage says with a curt nod. “I want Moden to see just how much fun I’m having without him.”  
“Do you want to rub his face in it,” asks Ben quietly, “or are you really trying to make him jealous enough that he’ll want you back?”  
Armitage glares at Ben. “He will want me back as a matter of pride so that he can save face and drop me a few weeks later. I’m not going back to him.”

Unamo returns smiling and Armitage has the sense that Ben wants to know more, but now is not the time. Unamo leads the way down to the basement where a bright white and lavender sign declares they have found the Wellness Centre. A less welcoming sign informs them that it is closed. Unamo taps her keycard to the reader and the door buzzes open. When they go in, two lavender-clad, name-badged attendants swoop.  
“I want to work with this,” the one called Thanisson says, fingering a strand of Ben’s hair. The other, whose name badge says ‘Mitaka’, approaches Armitage. Armitage takes a step back.  
“What exactly is supposed to happen here this morning?” he asks. Mitaka gives him a reassuring smile.  
“We’ve scheduled you both for a hair restyle, facial, mani-pedi and a massage. You’ll leave here beautiful and relaxed.”  
Armitage looks to Ben for backup in some show of protest but Ben is already allowing Thanisson to finger-comb his hair and test how it looks parted and primped in different ways. Unamo has her camera set up on a Steadicam and she’s focused on Ben’s reflected smile as Thanisson strokes his hair back from his face and talks through treatment options. Armitage looks at Mitaka with a resigned sigh and Mitaka leads him into a room with two couches. He hands Armitage a robe, gives him privacy to change then pats a couch and Armitage lies down. A minute later, Thanisson brings Ben through in a matching pale lilac robe to lie on the other. Unamo follows, filming everything.

“Have you ever had a facial before?” Ben asks. It takes Armitage a few awkward seconds of silence to realise Ben is talking to him about beauty treatments.  
“No,” he replies. “They’re silly.”  
“With respect, sir,” Mitaka says, pulling a magnifier lamp over to examine Armitage’s skin. “If you’ve never had one, how do you know?” Armitage has no answer. His prejudice, he realises, comes from exactly the sort of things Moden would have said and laughed about with his father back when their affair was still an illicit and exciting secret.  
“Do your best to convince me then,” he says in lieu of an apology. Mitaka moves the magnifier over different areas of Armitage’s skin. Beside him, Thanisson is performing the same scrutiny on Ben. He closes his eyes against the light and he’s uncomfortably aware of Mitaka’s face close to his, cool breath on his cheek and neck. Mitaka declares that Armitage has dry skin that needs a gentle cleanser and a herbal mask to draw out toxins and replenish moisture. It’s all Armitage can do to hold back his internal yell of _”What utter bollocks!”_  
Thanisson prescribes a mud mask for Ben and the two attendants go to prepare their treatments while Unamo laughs in the background. “There are definitely some shots of you, Armitage, that we can’t use. You are very expressive. When Mitaka puts your face mask on you, please try not to look like he’s spreading a cow-pat under your nose.”  
“Please,” Ben says with a guffaw, “I’m gonna want copies of those.”

Even Armitage has to admit that the facial feels nice once he’s over the shock of having someone else touch his face. After a warm towel is draped over his face for a few minutes, Mitaka massages the cleanser into his forehead, cheeks and neck with gentle circular movements then wipes it off before applying the herbal mask. Armitage is relieved to find that it smells faintly of coconut. While the face mask is still on, Mitaka leads him to a washbasin. Ben is there already, lips appearing even more rosy next to the grey-green hue of his face mask. His eyes are closed. Before Armitage sits and puts his head back, he notices how thick Ben’s eyelashes are and how his throat moves when he swallows. Soon he’s lost in the gentle sound of warm water gurgling from the aerator spray and the feeling of Mitaka’s fingers on his scalp. It makes the skin on his back and arms prickle and he’s uncomfortably aware that he finds it physically arousing. He wonders if Ben has the same reaction to having his hair touched, if he’s nursing a semi right now because a pretty attendant is playing with his hair. With a stab of guilt that deflates his own nascent erection, he realises that he wants to be he one causing Ben to get hard.

Too soon it’s over and he’s sitting opposite his reflection, wearing a towel on his head and a shiny white paste on his face. Ben is beside him and they look at each other’s reflections.  
“I never noticed,” Ben says, openly staring. “Your eyelashes are really long.”  
“So is your nose,” replies Armitage.  
“I am perfectly proportioned,” Ben says, his grin cracking and crazing the mud shell on his skin. “Everything that sticks out from me is larger than average.” Thanisson snorts, Mitaka sniggers and Armitage rolls his eyes. Ben waits another few seconds then adds, “Just wait until you see the size of my ears.”  
Armitage laughs at that. Mitaka smiles at him in the mirror and asks, “How do you normally style your hair?”  
“Slick it all back out the way.”  
“Military style?” he asks. “That is rather severe.”  
“My ex was a military man. So was my father.”  
“You should let it grow,” Ben says. “You have a great hair colour.”  
Armitage isn’t sure what to do with the compliment so he does nothing.

Mitaka says a few more things about Armitage’s hair but Armitage has lost interest and merely hums and nods at whatever is suggested. For fifteen minutes, Mitaka tilts Armitage’s head one way then the other, snips and combs, then smiles and says he thinks the result will look great. All that remains is to remove the face mask (Armitage is both disgusted and fascinated that his peels off like soft rubber), apply a light moisturiser and blow dry his hair. Mitaka has softened Armitage’s severe style by allowing the longer hair some volume and adding texture with wax. Armitage stares when he’s allowed to see the finished look. His skin looks healthy and his hairstyle seems to have dialled his age back to where it should be. When he catches sight of Ben, he laughs. “You look exactly the same!”  
“Why change perfection?” Ben asks with a grin. “You look good.”  
“Thanks,” Armitage says, turning his head from side to side to admire the way his softer hairstyle lifts his whole demeanour. He catches Ben watching him. “What?”  
“Nothing.” Ben smiles.  
Armitage has forgotten about Unamo until she clears her throat. “Okay. I’m going to get you to do a few posed shots then we can see about the manscaping.”  
“Manscaping?” Armitage says, face screwed up in confusion. Ben roars with laughter. But it is Armitage who is laughing ten minutes later when he has been given a slight trim here and there and declared fashionably hairless where it matters, but Ben is lying face down on the couch, teeth gritted, eyes watering, having his sparse body hair gleefully ripped off with wax by Thanisson.

Thankfully, Unamo doesn’t film everything. But when Armitage and Ben are sitting at adjacent stations for their mani-pedi treatments, with cotton gloves incubating the moisturiser treatment on their hands, and their feet soaking in slightly astringent-smelling fluid, she insists that they lean across the gap and kiss.  
“Oh come on,” she says after the first one was too clinical. “Look at each other. Look like you mean it. I need you to hold position for at least a count of five.”  
Armitage knows he’s blushing. Ben’s cheeks look pink but that might be because the treatment room is warm so he thinks nothing of it. “A count of five,” he repeats, glancing at Ben again. He shuffles into a more comfortable position and looks at Ben properly. Ben meets his gaze and gives an awkward half-smile.  
“We can do this,” he says, leaning in. Armitage meets him half way and their lips touch, then part. Armitage closes his eyes. Ben feels different from Moden. Warmer, wider lips, softer and less insistent. It’s nicer, he thinks, knowing that it’s just a kiss and nothing will come of it. Just to see what will happen, Armitage leans in a little more and slowly licks his tongue across Ben’s upper lip. Ben responds with the quietest groan and traps Armitage’s lower lip briefly between his teeth. Someone whistles. Unamo snorts and asks if there is anyone in the room who can count to five. Armitage pulls back and tries to wipe his mouth on his sleeve then remembers where he is. He looks up at the corner of the room, willing his heart to stop thumping quite so hard and the rushing blood to quiet in his head. Ben laughs.  
“Did you get what you wanted?” he asks.  
“Yes,” Unamo replies. “Not sure you did, though.”

For the rest of the mani-pedi treatment, Ben ignores Armitage and quizzes Unamo on the best local attractions to visit. Armitage feels himself spiralling. He thought he could do this. He thought he could be on his own to get Moden out of his head, then Ben invaded his vacation. And he thought he could cope with the pretence of being in love. But when the resort video goes up on social media, Moden will see that it’s posed, all fake, he’s acting the loving fiancé and hamming it up at best. Moden will call him, or show up, and sneer. Worst of all, Ben will think he’s pathetic.  
“I’m sorry, I have to leave.” Armitage gets up as soon as Mitaka says his nails are done and it’s time for his massage. He grabs his pile of clothes and walks out, barefoot and still wearing a hotel robe. His keycard is in his shirt pocket and he fumbles it out and drops it in his haste to get into the safety of the suite. He shuts himself in the bathroom, sets the shower to cool and stands under it. He manages to suppress the urge to scream, but he lets hot tears flow freely.

“Armitage?” There’s a rapid tap on the frosted glass door. “Are you okay?”  
Armitage can see Ben’s shape on the other side of the glass. He turns off the shower.  
“I know you’re not okay. Um. I told them you just broke up with someone and Thanisson called me some names.” Armitage rests his palms on the tiles. “I wrote them down in case you wanted to expand your vocabulary. Uh, do you know what,” Ben does his best impression of Thanisson’s accent. “ _’Away an sort it oot ya choob’_ might mean?”  
When the first sound punctures his silence, Armitage can’t hold back the eruption of giggles. Soon he’s helpless, sitting on the floor of the shower, shaking with laughter. Ben sounds closer and from the echoes Armitage realises Ben has come into the bathroom. “Sorry,” Armitage chokes out. ”I don’t even know why that’s funny.” He takes a deep breath, holds it, then takes another until he is back in control. “Pass me a towel.”

Ben’s hand appears around the wall of the shower and Armitage takes the towel from him, rubs his hair then wraps it around himself. He’s sure he looks terrible but he steps out into the main bathroom area anyway, finger-combing his hair back from his face. Ben’s still there.  
“Sorry about that,” Armitage says. “I had a moment.”  
“Sorry I put you through that,” Ben replies. “I should be more sensitive. At least that’s what Unamo said. We posed some photos for the massage and she said lunch can wait until you’re up to it.”  
“I’m fine.” Armitage sets about combing his hair properly but his hand stills. Ben takes the comb from him after a few seconds.  
“Do you, I dunno, need a hug?”  
Armitage stares at his reflection while he thinks. He does, that’s certain, and Ben has a solidity to him that looks like he can give good hugs. But he might get clingy. He might not want to let go after the socially acceptable three seconds and it might get awkward. He glances at Ben’s concerned expression and Ben’s arms wrap around him from the side, then a hand on his shoulder turns him and he’s held against Ben’s chest A hand pets his damp hair and he rests his cheek on Ben’s shoulder. After an age, Armitage slides his arms around Ben’s waist. Ben makes no attempt to move away, makes no awkward comments, simply stays right where he’s needed. Armitage would like to kiss him again. Instead he shakes Ben off gently and says thanks.

He can’t recreate the style Mitaka gave him but he declares his look to be good enough and gets dressed for lunch. Before they reach the restaurant, Ben takes his hand and laces their fingers together. Armitage notices Dameron and his fiancé sitting at a table for two near the entrance and he gives Dameron a supercilious smile as they pass. Unamo follows them into the restaurant, sets up her camera, takes a few photographs when their food arrives, then leaves them in peace. Once she’s gone, Ben leans across the table and asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”  
Armitage frowns. “Talk about it?”  
“Your break up.”  
“No,” Armitage shakes his head. “I want to have lunch and not think about it.”  
“Okay.” Ben leans back and spears a morsel of smoked salmon and salad. Armitage watches his expression darken, eyes tracking movement as someone walks towards their table behind Armitage. Ben leans forward again, holding out his fork, and takes Armitage’s hand. He smiles and the room brightens. “Hey you should try this. It’s so good.”  
Armitage raises his eyebrows, but he leans forward, opens his mouth and allows Ben to feed him without questioning it. Ben’s right. “That really is good,” he says with a little hum of appreciation as Poe Dameron walks by. “What can I put in your mouth?” Ben reddens and holds back a laugh. Once Dameron and his fiancé are out of sight, Armitage asks, “So what is it with you and that guy? You know he tried to warn me about you?”  
“Figures,” Ben says with a sigh. “We were pretty close for a while but it didn’t work out on account of him being a monumental pain in the ass.”  
“Whereas you are a paragon of—”  
“Okay!” Ben laughs. “It was a while back. He’s older than me and he thought that made him wiser. He wanted to steer my career down a certain route and I had other ideas.”  
“I can understand that,” Armitage says. “What is your career? I know your shirt size and your name, but that’s all.”  
Ben pauses to eat, looking at his salad. When he looks up again, he says, “I studied law. Poe thought I should join the family firm, you know, give back to the folks who supported me. But I was headhunted for something else and I went.”  
“So you’re a lawyer.”  
“Yes. I specialise in... Ugh, it’s dull. You?”  
Armitage shrugs. “I studied engineering. I design rockets.”  
“Am I,” Ben points to his own chest, “the genuine fake-fiancé of a genuine rocket scientist?”  
Armitage grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Would you like to fire my thrusters?”

After lunch, Unamo meets them by the pool. She takes one look at Armitage’s baggy swim shorts, shakes her head and motions for him to follow her into the resort shopping area. The swimwear she chooses makes him blush so he pulls his own shorts over the top for modesty on the way back to the pool. When he gets there and takes them off again, revealing way more skin than he is used to, Ben greets the sight with a low whistle. “That is a good look on you, rocket-man,” he says, then looks away.  
Armitage regards Ben’s very small swim briefs that show no sign of tan lines. “I take it you’re used to wearing less,” he says. “How far does your tan extend?”  
Ben grins and winks at him then hooks his thumb into his waistband, pulling it down his hip to show a uniform, unbroken hazelnut hue. “What about you?” he asks in return.  
Armitage laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t tan.”  
“We thought of that,” Unamo says, handing Ben a bottle of sunscreen and looking at Armitage. “Is it okay if we take a video of Ben putting sunscreen on your back?”  
Armitage looks around. There are a few other people lounging by the pool, and he spots Poe Dameron with his fiancé. He nods. “That’s fine,” he says. “I’ll burn without it.”

They arrange the loungers to get the pool in the background and Unamo shoots the video, checks it over, shoots it again twice more with subtle changes in their positions, then says they are free until she’s ready to video them in the suite. Ben squeezes more sunscreen onto Armitage’s back and massages it in gently as Unamo walks away. “You can stop now,” Armitage says, not wanting Ben to stop at all.  
“I don’t want you to get sunburn,” Ben says, pulling his hands down to where Armitage’s low-rise shorts barely cover his hips. “So I‘m making sure I cover all your skin. Besides, you missed a massage this morning. I want to make it up to you.”  
“You don’t have to,” Armitage says, twisting to look at Ben. “It wasn’t your fault that I got upset.”  
Ben keeps massaging circles on the back of Armitage’s waist. “Mitaka said you went silent and seemed distracted, or withdrawn or something, after we kissed for the camera. If you want to talk about it, or if you don’t, that’s okay.”  
“I was thinking about Moden. Why are you being nice about this? What’s in it for you?”  
Ben’s hands go still on Armitage’s back. “Nothing. I think your ex is a dick, that’s all.”

Armitage flinches when cold sunscreen lands on the backs of his thighs, then he wriggles when Ben’s warm hands splay over his skin. He relaxes for a few minutes but as Ben’s hands slide up and down his thighs, getting more daring with each pass, Armitage feels a warm tingle behind his groin as his physical response builds. Much as he would like to fantasise about Ben slipping his hands under the tight, borrowed swimwear and fingering him close to climax, he’s not prepared to take the consequences either with Ben when he realises Armitage is turned on, or with Unamo when he has to give back the tiny shorts. “Ben,” he says quietly as Ben’s hands rub and squeeze, then louder, “Ben!”  
Ben stops. “What?”  
“Unless you plan on making our fake relationship a lot more intimate, I need you to stop.”  
“Oh!” Ben takes his hands off Armitage’s thighs. “I suppose that was kind of... yeah. I wasn’t thinking.”  
Armitage can see Poe Dameron watching them. He sits up and smiles at Ben. “Want to kiss me in front of Dameron? He’s watching.”  
Ben leans in. It’s soft and slow and Armitage closes his eyes, strokes Ben’s hair and hopes for it to last just one more second. And one more. Just one. When Ben pulls back he looks away and smiles. “I think it will look good,” he says quietly, “if I take your hand and we leave together.”

Armitage is on his feet so fast his head spins. Ben takes his hand and they walk slowly back into the hotel and take the elevator to their suite. Armitage is wondering whether or not he has the nerve to ask Ben if they can kiss again just because it’s nice, without the pressure of having to be on show, and maybe hug too because that felt good. Maybe he’ll confess that he finds Ben attractive and would be open to the idea of some furtive groping and a casual hand job. Ben drops his hand to open the door and Armitage follows him inside. He clenches and unclenches his fists a few times and decides what to say.  
“You know, the thing I like most about this fake fiancé thing is—”  
He stops because someone is banging on their door. He curses silently, walks over, opens it, and Unamo breezes in with a big smile and an empty champagne bottle. Armitage frowns at it and she laughs, holding it up.  
“Our most expensive brand. The bottle’s for show. When we do the photoshoot of you drinking fancy champagne in the spa bath, I’m afraid your glasses will contain something cheaper.” As if on cue, another hotel employee arrives with two champagne flutes, an ice bucket and a bottle of sparkling wine. “Set that down by the spa bath,” she tells him. “Okay, I’ll set up for filming in the shower. You can keep your swimwear on if you’re uncomfortable with nudity.”  
_It has been a long time,_ thinks Armitage, _since I have been this tempted to punch something._

If Armitage had any concerns about getting inappropriately aroused during the shower and spa-bath filming, he was reassured as soon as Unamo set the water temperature.  
“Sorry,” she said, not sounding at all apologetic. “We can’t have water vapour fogging up the shot. Armitage? I’d like some video of you washing Ben’s hair, with the fancy electronic controls in the background. We’ll have to do a few takes from different angles and I’ll edit them later.”  
It’s so cold Armitage almost howls when he gets under the shower and Ben dances in and out of the spray until Unamo laughs at him. The spa bath scene is no better, with tepid water and tepid wine, because if the glass is cold it will gather condensation that will spoil the shot. Despite lying back cradled against Ben’s shoulder, even the sunset seems like a let down.

Eventually, when their fingers are wrinkled from being in the water for so long, Unamo says she’s done and will see them in the restaurant for dinner. Armitage is so cold he says, without a second thought, “I’m taking a hot shower. Coming?”  
Ben sucks his lower lip between his teeth and frowns. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says carefully. “But you just broke up with someone you were with for a long time. I’m not that asshole.”  
“What asshole?” Armitage asks, stomach dropping into his feet and heart rising into his throat.  
“I won’t take advantage of a guy on the rebound,” Ben says. “Even if he wants me to.” There’s a long sigh. “Honestly, if I liked you less, I would.”  
Armitage walks into the bathroom to avoid Ben’s gaze. “Fuck you, you wanker,” he singsongs back. “I offered you joint first dibs on the shower, nothing more.”  
Less than a minute later, Armitage hears the bathroom door rumble on its runners and Ben joins him in the shower. “Sorry,” he says. “Guess I read you wrong.”  
For two seconds, Armitage considers telling the truth, then he sneers and turns his back.

They dress almost in silence, speaking only when necessary. It reminds Armitage of evenings spent with Moden, one of them having offended the other and neither willing to give their grievances a voice. Ben looks gloomy as they wait for the elevator and, once the doors close, Armitage slips his hand into Ben’s and gives it a squeeze.  
“I’m tired of apologising for being upset,” he says, “and I don’t want you to think you have to apologise for something that isn’t your fault.”  
Ben squeezes his hand back. “Okay.” Ben laughs softly. “We should set some boundaries.”  
Armitage lets go of Ben, feeling as if there isn’t enough air in the elevator cabin. “You want to draft a contract?”  
“No,” Ben says, rubbing his hand over his face. “Just—”  
The doors open at the lobby and they get out. Armitage takes a deep breath and forces out a smile.

It feels like the photoshoot takes forever, posing with different dishes they are not going to eat, until Unamo finally says she has enough and they can order whatever they want from the menu. Ben picks the filet with dauphinois and creamed spinach, Armitage orders braised lamb with whipped potatoes and buttered carrots. When the server brings their wine, Armitage looks at Ben. Ben doesn’t meet his gaze.  
“If you could wind back time, would you have picked someone else for this?”  
Ben looks up at last and shakes his head. “No. I would still have picked the cute redhead in the next room. This is all a bit more than I was expecting, but I’m glad I met you.”  
“What was the name of that law firm that made you flinch? The one Phasma said never loses?”  
Ben goes a shade redder. “Just some legal firm with an interest in property.”  
“But you’re a lawyer too, aren’t you?” Armitage sips his wine. “You could have called her bluff. Why didn’t you walk away?”  
“Honestly, I wanted to see what deal they would offer. And I wanted to help you stick it to your ex. I didn’t think I’d—” Ben stops. “Doesn’t matter. Tell me about him.”  
“Not much to say,” Armitage shakes his head. “Older man. Friend of my father’s. He was a regular guest at our house. When I was eighteen, I thought all the sneaking around behind my father’s back was exciting and romantic. I thought his authoritative ways were protective and because he was older I deferred to him a lot, but I got tired of having to fit around his commitments and check in with him every time I wanted to do anything on my own. When I found out that he was so sure I’d fall at his feet that he had planned a wedding and booked a vacation to propose, I went ballistic. Called him all sorts of things. When I stormed out, he was arrogant prick and I was pathetic, immature child.”  
The food arrives and they are all quiet smiles for a minute. Then Ben nods. “Dameron’s a cocky bastard. Finn seems to be better at dealing with it than I ever was. We were not good together. I try to be friendly with him for Rey’s sake—that’s my cousin who was going to join me to see what we could scam just for the hell of it. Finn’s her best friend. When she said she’d invited Finn and his fiancé on this trip I never expected Poe fucking Dameron.”  
“So I’m on the rebound and you’re... what, exactly?” Armitage loads a forkful of lamb, carrot and potato and puts it in his mouth. It’s so good he can’t help closing his eyes and smiling.  
Ben laughs. “It pisses me off that he gets to dump me and be happy. That’s all. What does that make me, huh?”  
Armitage opens his eyes and fills his fork again, holding it out for Ben. “It makes you human. Get over yourself and have some of this.” Ben laughs and leans forward for Armitage to feed him. When his lips close and the fork is pulled away clean, Armitage asks, “Would you want to go back with Poe? If you could?” Ben almost chokes. He shakes his head wildly and holds his hands up, palms out. Armitage smiles. “Well then. You don’t want to get back with your ex, and I don’t want to get back with mine.”

They take turns eating their own food and feeding each other, discussing which is the best combination of food on their forks (steak and garlicky creamed spinach) and whether they will want dessert (they do not). Mellowed by his share of a bottle of wine, Armitage suggests they take a walk to discuss the boundaries Ben wanted to set. They stroll along the path beside the beach in silence until the crowd near the hotel is behind them and they can hear the waves break on the shore. Armitage takes Ben’s hand. “Am I crossing boundaries if I want to hold hands?”  
“No, hand holding is nice.”  
“What if I were to say I liked you and I think you like me too?” Armitage looks up to see which stars are visible. “Is that crossing any boundaries?”  
“No. I guess that’s accurate.”  
“You gave me a hug earlier when I was upset. Was that crossing any boundaries?”  
“No, that was nice too.”  
“So if I wanted another hug, you’d be okay with that?”  
“I guess so.”  
“What about the five second kiss?”  
“Oh, borderline.” Ben presses his lips together. “Right on the boundary.”  
“Well then, kissing is allowed as long as it does not last longer than five seconds.”  
“Agreed,” Ben says. “What about casual touching? Applying sunscreen?”  
“Ah,” Armitage wags a finger at Ben. “No physical contact in the general swimshorts area unless you’re prepared to take this further.”  
“Agreed.”  
“Right.” Armitage stops and faces Ben. “I want a hug and a five second kiss.”

There is nobody around to count to five.


	3. Faking it

Armitage wakes up too warm and the bed shifts beneath him. It takes him a full minute to realise he’s lying on his side with his head on Ben’s shoulder, Ben’s arm around his back and his leg hooked around Ben’s knee. He lies still. Maybe if he doesn’t move, Ben will let him stay like this for a while. He concentrates on staying relaxed, breathing evenly, remembering last night when they kissed on the promenade then came back to the beach bar to sit close together, drink weak cocktails and listen to a local band play acoustic covers of nineties classics.  
“Look,” Ben had said after his second _Dark and Stormy._ “I’m flattered that you like me. I like you. But you have to see that getting too involved with me is a bad idea for you right now.”  
“Of course,” Armitage remembers replying. “You’re afraid that I’m just looking for someone to take my mind off Moden.”  
“Aren’t you?” Ben had asked, studying the slivers of ice remaining in his glass.  
“Perhaps,” Armitage had smiled at Ben and leaned closer. “Do you think that guy who did my hair might be interested in helping me out with that? What was his name. Mitaka? He seemed nice and—”  
Ben had snapped, “No. It would be highly unprofessional of an employee to fuck a guest.”  
Armitage snorts and breaks the illusion of sleep. Ben shifts more and laughs softly.  
“I knew you were faking it,” Ben says. “I’ll make coffee.”  
_You knew. And yet,_ thinks Armitage as he watches Ben slip out of bed and pad barefoot across the room, midriff exposed where the too-small shirt has ridden up and shorts bulging at the front. _You stayed right here._

Ben brings Armitage a mug of coffee then goes into the bathroom. Armitage gets out of bed, checks his hair and finger-combs it uselessly, arranges his too-big shirt to drape in a way that shows one pale shoulder, and goes out onto the balcony that runs across all the rooms of the suite. The hotel is still enough that he can hear the hiss of the irrigation system that keeps the gardens green and under it, faintly, the rumble and crash of the ocean. A few gulls circle and cry overhead, and he frowns at the odd shape and colour of one until he realises that it is a pelican. He watches it flap and glide out of sight. Moden would have started telling him everything he knows about seabirds by now, and Armitage would have wished for quiet.  
“More coffee?” He turns at Ben’s voice, noting with satisfaction that Ben’s eyes are roving over his carefully bared skin. “Or do you want to get ready for breakfast?”  
_You look good enough to eat too,_ he thinks. “More coffee,” he says waving his mug, “while I get ready for breakfast.”

After breakfast, Unamo meets them in reception. They have a trip around the resort shopping area followed by a photoshoot on the beach scheduled. She promises them the filming should not take too long. On the way to the first store, Armitage challenges Ben to buy him a gift he will like, and Ben buys him a shirt with a garish print that even clashes with itself, a replacement for the one he has stolen to sleep in. Armitage tells him quietly that it won’t do because he doesn’t need a replacement because he wants his own shirt back once Ben has slept in it all week. Ben kisses him on the cheek and tells him to wait. He comes back a few minutes later, having exchanged the shirt for a wide-brimmed sunhat and a green batik sarong. Armitage looks at them in mock horror then confesses that they will be practical for an afternoon in the sun. He accepts the boutique branded paper shopping bag with a smile and the lightest of kisses.

Unamo keeps her promise. After they visit a few more stores, they visit the beach and stage some photographs in the roped-off area reserved for the resort’s more exclusive guests, then they are free to spend the rest of the day as they see fit until the bars open for the evening. Ben wants to make the most of their access to the all-inclusive VIP area of the beach, so he orders mimosas for them both and watches as Armitage experiments with different ways of wearing his sarong. After a few false starts he settles for halter-dress style, puts his sunglasses on and plops the wide-brimmed sunhat on his head to shade his face and neck. Ben settles back on his lounger and smiles at the blue sky. Behind his dark glasses, Armitage smiles at Ben’s golden tan and tiny shorts. Without thinking, he asks, “Hey, do you think there’s a naturist beach?”  
Ben laughs. “Some things are best left under wraps.”

Armitage goes quiet. His face flushes and he feels his stomach churn again.  
_Is he saying I shouldn’t show my body? Is that why he bought me this thing to wear on the beach?_  
He regards Ben’s muscular form, gaze drifting from his well-defined pectorals to his abs, then further down to his bulging quads and calf muscles. He chews his lip.  
_Am I unattractive? I’m not built like that. Should I be? Is that what he wants? Is that why he’s not really interested?_  
“Hey!” Ben laughs and Armitage blinks rapidly behind his sunglasses. “Earth to Armie! You okay?”  
“Am I too skinny?”  
“Huh? No! You’re... Where did that come from?”  
“Nowhere. Doesn’t matter.”  
Ben sits up and faces Armitage. “You look graceful,” he says. I love the way you move. It’s like you glide or flow from step to step. You could be a dancer, for all I know. You’re... It’s beautiful.”  
“Not _thin as a slip of paper_ then.”  
Ben shakes his head slowly. “No. Anyone who calls you that isn’t looking properly.”  
“And you are?” Armitage says with a grin. Ben returns the grin, pulls off his sunglasses and looks Armitage up and down with exaggerated slowness. Twice.  
“Can’t see. Your sarong is in the way. Take it off.”  
“Can’t,” Armitage replies, smirking. “Sunburn.”  
“Can you swim?” Ben asks abruptly. “I bet you can’t get sunburn underwater.”  
During a shrieking race into the surf that has their neighbours tutting and making faces, Armitage is triumphant when he finds out that he is a faster runner and a better swimmer than Ben. He accepts the prize of one five second kiss, to be claimed as and when he sees fit.

Armitage informs Ben after twenty minutes or so that he wants to go inside, shower off the sea water and relax in the shade of their balcony. Ben follows him out of the water but says he will stay on the beach for a while. Armitage wanders up to the suite, showers and dresses then settles to read. From his vantage point, he can see out over the beach and he spies a figure with dark hair and black shorts on a red-cushioned lounger. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and thinks about Ben’s warm skin, how it looks, how it smells, how it felt under his hand this morning when he was so tempted to stroke Ben’s chest lazily but didn’t want to let on that he was awake and spoil the moment. He wonders, _If I had done it, would he have let me? What if I’d run my hand down over his stomach to his cock? He was half hard as it was._ He looks out over the beach. It looks like Ben is still dozing on the lounger so Armitage unfastens his shorts and slips his hand inside. _Should’ve done it in the shower._

But being on the balcony, open to the air yet safely private behind the low wall and iron railing, somehow feels more daring. He keeps his eyes on Ben’s distant figure and strokes himself hard. He pulls his shirt up and out of the way and lets his head fall back, thinking about Ben’s broad chest and thick biceps, his huge, warm hands and his soft lips. He wants to be kissing Ben right now but Ben is still—  
The French door opens. “Hi I came back because Unamo said—”  
Armitage comes with his eyes closed, his head lolling back, and his free hand balled into a fist and shoved in his mouth less to stifle any noise he might make and more as a substitute for what he is imagining he wants to put in there.

When Armitage goes to clean up, Ben is in the bathroom. He washes his hands at the wet bar area instead and wipes his stomach with paper towels, then frowns out over the beach. With a hot prickly feeling he realises that the figure he thought was Ben is still on the beach, sitting up and talking to a woman in a blue one-piece, and is clearly not Ben at all. He feels ashamed at mistaking a stranger for Ben despite their similar colouring and build. Ben, he thinks, is taller and more muscular. Far more imposing. He wishes he’d worked it out earlier. That’s when it occurs to Armitage that he’s lucky Ben didn’t come out onto the balcony and see him masturbating. And _that’s_ when it occurs to him that he had closed the French doors from the bedroom, yet when he’d gone back inside they had been open.

He thinks he might just collapse and die of embarrassment.

Fortunately, all Ben says when he comes out of the shower is, “Unamo wants us downstairs for a photoshoot in the fancy-pants bar before dinner. Six o’clock. She’s sending up a couple of rented tuxes because there’s a wedding on and we can’t go making the place look sloppy.”  
“Why can’t she just take photos of the wedding guests?” Armitage asks, a frown tugging at his eyebrows.  
“Apparently Phasma is so pleased with what Unamo has filmed so far that she wants the entire resort showcase to feature us doing stuff. Apparently it makes it more watchable.”  
“Well I’m blaming you,” Armitage says. “You need to be less ruggedly handsome.” He thinks he can see Ben blush at the compliment. “You are, in case you didn’t realise it, very easy on the eyes.”  
There’s a knock on the door. Ben turns away to answer it and an attendant comes in hoisting two suit carriers. Another arrives a minute later with two fresh white shirts and two shoe boxes. The first clears their throat. “Miss Unamo said to tell you.” They swallow, sigh and roll their eyes. “Um. Brush your hair and shave. The clothes and shoes have to go back before dinner.” Their cheeks darken and they back towards the door. “And you are not to, um, spill any fluids on the, um, trouser area. I’msorrythankyouandgoodevening.”  
Ben waits for the door to close then grins at Armitage. “We needn’t worry. You spilled your fluids already out on the balcony.”  
Armitage slaps both hands over his face, turns and walks away, shaking his head and muttering _Oh no, no, no._  
“Hey!” Ben calls after him. “I did it in the shower. Wanna go get lunch in town? See the sights before we let Unamo capture our souls again?”  
Armitage pokes his face, still pink, around the door frame. “How do you feel about museums and art galleries?”  
Ben’s face lights up. “You like art and history?”  
Armitage shrugs. “I like anywhere indoors with air con.”

Ben chooses the destination and soon they are getting out of a cab and looking up at the dome of the Aerospace Museum. Ben grins at Armitage. “Thought you’d feel at home here, rocket-man.”  
There is likely to be nothing here Armitage hasn’t seen before, but he appreciates that Ben thought of his interests. He slips his hand into Ben’s without thinking about it and Ben does not shake him off. He thinks about asking to go somewhere else but Ben seems so pleased. He smiles and leads Ben inside. They have overpriced sandwiches for lunch in the café then walk around the exhibits. Ten minutes in, when Ben shows no sign of lecturing him about anything, Armitage realises he’s happy. He watches Ben’s profile as he reads the information plaque next to a display of spacesuits and considers pulling Ben behind one of the perspex cases and claiming the kiss he’s owed. But Ben looks up and laughs and asks what he’s thinking about, and they move on to the next exhibit.

“Look,” Ben says, pointing across one of the halls after about forty minutes. “Can we go see what’s in there?”  
Armitage lets out a guffaw. “The gift shop. Are you bored?”  
Ben leans close and murmurs, “Maybe.”  
“Me too,” Armitage replies. “I owe you a gift. Meet you outside the store in fifteen minutes.”  
“Okay,” Ben says, taking his phone out and fiddling with it. “This might seem like a dumb question, but can I have your number? In case we miss each other?”  
Armitage takes Ben’s phone and calls himself from it then saves his own number as _Rocket Man._ He unlocks his own phone and saves Ben’s number as _Darkan Stormy._  
When they meet up again, Armitage has a small shopping bag and Ben is stuffing something into his pocket. “Can I see what you got?” Ben asks.  
Armitage shakes his head. “All in good time. We should head back to the hotel before Phasma and Unamo send the troops out to round us up.”

Once back in their suite, they change clothes quickly. Ben ignores the instruction to shave and brush his hair, and Armitage laughs and finger-combs it into shape. Ben rubs his knuckles across Armitage’s newly-smooth jaw.  
“You look good,” he says. “I liked the tousled look on you too.”  
Armitage warms at the compliment, but smiles and says thanks. They dress in their borrowed clothes then Armitage looks at the two items in his shopping bag, chooses one for Ben and hands a small box over. He watches Ben’s face as he opens it. Ben’s face lights up in delight.  
“These are adorable! Okay,” he holds up one cufflink, the one shaped like an astronaut. “This one is called Armie.” He holds up the other, shaped like a rocket. “And this is little Armie.”  
Armitage sniggers and helps Ben put the cufflinks on. “You think Unamo will see them?” he asks. “I feel like she’d confiscate them as being against school dress code or something.”  
“As long as we get detention together, I’m okay with that,” Ben says, smiling then looking away. “You look really good in a tux.”  
“So do you.”  
Ben bites his lip. “I got you a gift too.” He picks up the shorts he had worn to the museum and pulls a small paper bag from the pocket. “My ring doesn’t fit you so I got you a different one.” He upends the bag over his palm and out falls a black ring, smooth and flat, with a band of swirling galaxy colours that shift with the light. Armitage swaps it for Ben’s overlarge signet ring and admires his hand. Then he pulls out the other object he had bought for Ben and hands it out. Ben takes it, laughs, hugs Armitage, and they go to meet Unamo wearing matching rings.

There are a few well-dressed guests in the “Admiral’s Bar”. At Unamo’s offer of free drinks, some are willing to be photographed in the background and Unamo soon has shots of Armitage and Ben sipping sparkling wine and smiling in fancy clothes in a fancy bar with fancy friends. When Unamo finishes, she tells them they can stay until seven-thirty when the bar is booked for a private function, and reminds them to change before dinner. They lean against the bar, watching the room gradually fill with more well-dressed, well-heeled guests. Turning his back to the room, Armitage stiffens as a voice calls a little too loudly. “Armie? Is that you? I didn’t know Moden had an invitation.”  
He mouths _”Oh, shit!”_ at Ben, then turns, all smiles. “Hello Eddie, I didn’t expect to see you here. Moden isn’t here. May I introduce Ben?”  
Ben holds out his hand and smiles. “Ben Solo. Nice to meet you, Eddie.”  
“Captain Edrison Peavey,” the man says with heavy emphasis on his rank and surname, frowning at Ben. He glares at Armitage. “Strange that Moden never mentioned that you would be here.”  
“I left Moden,” Armitage says, moving the drink in his left hand so that his ring clinks against the glass. He takes a sip. “And I found Ben. I don’t think it’s at all strange that he hasn’t told anyone.”  
“Sudden, was it?” asks Eddie, still glaring.  
“Oh very,” Ben butts in, touching Armitage on the cheek with his left hand so that his ring catches the light. “It was head over heels at first sight. I can’t believe my luck. Moden must be some kind of idiot to let someone as amazing as Armitage drift out of love with him.”  
Armitage looks at Ben and smiles. Eddie leans closer to Armitage. “Was all this carrying on behind Moden’s back?”  
“I think it’s time you fucked right off,” replies Armitage, quietly, a hint of something hard behind his soft accent. “Enjoy the party.”  
Eddie walks away, tutting and shaking his head. Armitage lets out a deep breath. “Well. Moden will know by the end of the day,” he says. “Saves me from having to tell him myself.”  
Ben is silent for a few seconds. “You _have_ told your ex that you’ve left him, right?”  
“Yes! Or he’d be here. He probably thinks I’ll go back and apologise for causing a fuss and ask him to forgive me. I meant I’ve not told him about you. I’ve not been in touch with him so he doesn’t know I met someone. Eddie will text him as soon as he can.”  
Armitage’s stomach fizzes at his admission that he has _met someone_ and he hopes Ben won’t make anything of it. Ben leans in and murmurs, “He’s watching us.”  
“Then I want you to put your hand on my arse. Make sure he sees you do it.”  
Ben grins, kisses Armitage on the cheek and murmurs, “Better if you do it to me. Puts you in control. Put your arm around me and escort me out. Cop a feel of my ass when we pass the old coot.”  
Armitage almost chokes on his drink. He nods, slips his arm around Ben’s waist and leads him towards Peavey’s table, sliding his hand down over Ben’s backside and up under his jacket to grip his cheek. As they pass Peavey, Ben says just a little too loud, “Babe, I just can’t wait until you get me back to our beautiful suite!”

Armitage has a hard time keeping a straight face. He holds on to his laughter until they are waiting for the elevator then lets his giggles bubble out. Ben holds him close and kisses him, taking his hand and replacing it on his ass. When they break, Armitage can barely breathe. “Sorry,” Ben says. “I couldn’t warn you. The asshole followed us out.”  
The elevator doors open and they get in. Armitage wants urgently to press himself against Ben, kiss him breathless. He clenches and unclenches his fists, arms ramrod straight, until the elevator stops. “I can’t do this,” he blurts out as the doors open opposite their suite.  
Ben frowns. “Can’t do what, exactly?”  
“I can’t pretend this is nothing. Ben—”  
Ben shushes him and opens the door. He takes Armitage by the hand and leads him inside.  
“Ben, I can’t fake any more.”  
Ben goes pale, then pink. “You’re going to go back to him?”  
“No, you idiot!” Armitage yells. “I can’t fake not wanting you! Have you any idea how much torture it is, being with you and not _being_ with you? When you kissed me downstairs, for just a second I let myself think it was real. But then you said it was because we were being watched. I can’t... I can’t—”  
Armitage is silenced by his phone beeping and buzzing. He wrestles it from his pocket, looks at the screen and sits on the floor. Ben kneels in front of him, reaches out and cups his face with both hands, tilting his head up to look at him. Armitage closes his eyes and drops his phone.  
“He knows.”  
Ben leans in and kisses Armitage on the forehead. He glances as the phone screen lights up with new messages.  
**Moden**  
_fuckign whore I’ll have you fired_  
_you’ve gt nothing without me_  
_where are you going to live you ungrateful little shit_  
_your da said he won’t have you back_

“C’m’ere.” Ben picks Armitage’s phone up, still buzzing with incoming texts, and throws it onto one of the sofas. “Get up.” Armitage lets Ben manhandle him upright. “You’re an idiot too. Do you know that? Come with me.” Ben leads Armitage into the bedroom helps him out of his rented tux and undresses himself. Then he leads Armitage into the bathroom with the fancy spa bath, tells him to sit on the single wicker chair and lets hot water cascade into the tub. There are some jars and bottles on the shelf and Ben puts a bit of everything in until the bathwater is green and frothy. Next he leads Armitage over. “Get in. I’ll be back in just a minute.”  
Armitage rubs his eyes. His red face and tears are not from sadness or fear, they are from frustration and anger and self-pity. He peels off his underwear and steps into the bath. It’s perfect: warm and fragrant and the spa jets knead in just the right places on his back and sides. Ben comes back with his arms full. He has robes, towels, wine glasses from the bar, and the bottle of prosecco that was a gift the day they were moved into the suite. Armitage closes his eyes and remembers Ben looking at him while the sunset blazed in the other direction. Was that only two days ago? Ben is setting a few small objects around the room and Armitage laughs when he sees that they are electric candles. Ben laughs back.  
“I called guest services. They told me where to find these. We’re not allowed real ones. Fire risk.”  
Ben pours two glasses of prosecco, opens the balcony door to let the sounds of the sea in along with the cooling evening air, removes the few clothes he is still wearing and slips into the spa bath beside Armitage.  
“I really like you,” he says. “I’m not playing a part here.”  
“But.” Other than the long sigh that carries the single word, Armitage hardly moves.  
“But. Yeah. We’ve known each other for a couple days. I want to be more than just some guy you fucked on holiday to get your mind off your ex.”

Armitage chews over what Ben has said. “What _do_ you want?” he asks.  
“I want to get to know you,” he says. “I want to be with you, but without this other thing, this _fucking asshole_ in your head too.” Ben holds his arm up and Armitage slides across into the space he’s made. Ben’s arm settles around his shoulders. “I want to know you want me because you like who I am, not just because I’m here and I’m not him.”  
Armitage nods. “Will you get me my phone?”  
Ben struggles to his feet and steps out of the bath, slopping water over the floor mat. He walks nude into the living room and comes back with Armitage’s phone. He holds it out. Armitage shakes his head.  
“Hold it up to my face to unlock it.”  
Ben does as he’s asked.  
“Delete whatever shit Moden just heaped on my inbox and block his number.”  
“You sure, babe?”  
“Fucking do it, Ben.”  
Ben taps at the screen. He can’t help reading Moden’s messages with growing fury, then he deletes them all. He blocks the number and puts Armitage’s phone down.  
“Done?” Armitage raises his eyebrows.  
“Yes.”  
“Now get back in the bath. You look ridiculous.”

Ben laughs and gets back into the warm, bubbling water. Armitage wraps his arms around Ben‘s shoulders and kisses his cheek. Ben turns his head and kisses Armitage briefly on his lips.  
“You know he can’t do any of the things he threatened, right?”  
“Please change the subject. Anything else. What do you think of the latest... film. Talk about films.”  
“Oh, I think I saw one of those once. There were cartoon lions that could sing.”  
“Was one of them some kind of... king?”  
“You know, I think he might have been.”  
Ben attempts to sing _Can you feel the love tonight,_ and Armitage laughs. “Well then,” he says. “That’s one more thing I know about you.”  
“Can’t sing?”  
“ _Awesome_ taste in films.”  
Ben laughs too. It’s pitch dark outside apart from the glow from the hotel rooms below and a slight, shifting glimmer from the ocean. Armitage sighs, lulled by the bubbling spa and the faint, regular roar and crash from the shore, and kisses Ben again. Just lightly, on the temple.  
Ben says, “We should probably go have dinner. Unamo wants photos at the beach bar.”  
“Or,” Armitage replies, “We could stay here and order room service.”  
Ben leans into Armitage and Armitage strokes his shoulder. Ben rests his hand on Armitage’s thigh, then he turns his head as Armitage shifts, and their lips meet. Barely breaking contact, Ben turns more, slides one knee between Armitage’s thighs, cradles his head with both hands and kisses him, parted lips and tongue slipping soft warmth across Armitage’s mouth. Armitage hits the control panel beside the oversized tub and the spa jets are silenced. Ben pulls back a little and stops, eyes closed, lips barely an inch from Armitage’s. For a few seconds, the only sounds are the shush and crash of the ocean, then Armitage surges up to kiss Ben again. He pulls Ben back with him to lean against the slope of the spa tub and Ben’s knee slips. With a curse and a laugh, Ben slops water out onto the floor the he gets up and out of the tub. Armitage stands up too and takes Ben’s offered hand to steady himself as he steps out of the water.  
“You sure?” he asks. “You changed your mind?”  
Ben nods. “This might be a bad idea, but I can take the consequences.”

Ben leads Armitage through to the bedroom. It is still warm enough that the slight breeze from the open doors to the balcony has them mostly dry by the time they arrive after stopping every few steps to kiss and caress bare skin in a way that has been off-limits until now. At the sliding door between the spa room and the living room, Armitage pulls Ben to a halt, runs the fingers of both hands through Ben’s hair and kisses him, using two handfuls of hair to hold him still. Ben responds with a noise that makes Armitage stop and check. “Is this okay?” he breathes close to Ben’s ear. Ben laughs softly and Armitage feels his shiver.  
“Yes,” Ben says, moving close enough that Armitage can feel Ben’s hardening cock against his hip. “More than okay.”  
At the threshold between the living room and the bedroom, Ben stops and takes Armitage’s hands, placing one on the side of his hair and the other on his chest. Armitage takes the hint and grips Ben’s hair again, pulls to tilt his head and mouths at his throat while his fingertips play over Ben’s erect nipples. This time there is no mistaking the noise Ben makes. Ben’s hands slip down Armitage’s back and cup his ass, pulling their hips close, and Ben grinds against him.  
Armitage laughs, lets go and pushes Ben backwards into the bedroom.

They make do with hands at first, facing each other, kissing and stroking, wrists getting in each others’ way until they find a mutually pleasurable rhythm. Ben’s hand is warm and large enough almost to enclose Armitage’s cock, and he strokes the fingers of his trapped arm under Armitage’s balls. Armitage hopes Ben doesn’t mind that his hands are cool and bony, with long but slender fingers. With every upwards stroke, he turns his wrist a little and he tugs on Ben’s hair gently with the hand that is trapped behind Ben’s head. Ben, Armitage is delighted to find, likes to express his pleasure with sounds and words, and Ben’s moans and mutterings of _yeah, baby, that’s so good_ and _aaah, like that, you’re perfect_ are almost as welcome as the hand enveloping his cock. Armitage doesn’t make a sound until he feels his pleasure rise, building towards his climax. He lets his mouth drop open and his head fall back and his eyelids flutter closed. _”Gonna—”_ is all he gets out before his orgasm surges and crashes over him and he comes with a few gasped breaths then lies still, heart hammering in his chest, grinning.

Ben laughs. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful.”  
“Shut up,” Armitage says with complete insincerity. He pulls his trapped arm free, rolls Ben onto his back and straddles his thighs. Armitage clasps Ben’s cock again with his left hand and slides his right hand under Ben’s balls. He grins and pushes two fingers slowly back and back and back, slippery with lube and sweat, until his finger pads rub around Ben’s puckered entrance and his thumb strokes the seam of the skin under his balls. He pumps Ben’s cock slowly, listening to the almost constant stream of pleasurable sounds from Ben, moving faster and gripping harder when Ben demands. Just when Ben seems to be on the point of coming, Armitage slows down and Ben curses at him for teasing. Armitage laughs then doubles over and takes the head of Ben’s cock into his mouth. At the same time, he pushes one finger past the pucker of muscle and speeds up his strokes of Ben’s shaft. Ben curses again but his words merge into a babble of meaningless syllables as Armitage gets the first salt-taste and moves his head away. He watches Ben’s come arc and land on his chest and stomach, then sees Ben is watching his face and smiling. He thinks of all the times with Moden, of the furtive, silent, under-the-covers fumbling that once seemed daring and forbidden but became merely an efficient means to an end, followed by a hurried clean up, rolling over and snoring.

“That was unexpected,” Ben says. “A very nice surprise.”  
“Well, I was only claiming my five second kiss from earlier. If you like,” Armitage says, “after dinner, when we come back up here, I will blow you properly.” Ben’s eyes widen. Armitage leans close, points at the doors and adds, “On the balcony.”  
Ben’s face flushes red, but he doesn’t say no.


	4. Sway

“Hmm, even if you are just using me to forget your ex, I’m not sure I mind too much,” Ben says as he sways to the live band on the beach with Armitage pressed against him and a few carefully chosen couples swaying too in the background.  
Unamo snorts. “I can totally hear you, you know.”  
Ben grins at her and winks. “Don’t care. Want to know what we have planned after this?”  
“Absolutely not.” She repositions her Steadicam and tells her assistant to adjust the lighting. “Okay, Again. Look like you’re in love this time. Gaze into each other’s eyes and smile.”  
Armitage leers into Unamo’s camera. “I am going to take my fiancé upstairs and su—“  
“No!” Unamo pulls a face. Someone in the crowd waiting to use the bar giggles. Ben pulls Armitage back into his arms and kisses him. The band keeps playing the same song as they slow-dance and Armitage doesn’t mind at all. Unamo films and calls instructions, like, _”Put your head on his shoulder,”_ and, _”Get your hands off each other’s asses.”_  
As they start the dance for the fifth time, Armitage murmurs to Ben, _”If we get this one right, in ten minutes’ time you could have my tongue on your cock and my fingers in your hole. Or the other way around if you’re into that.”_  
Ben holds Armitage even tighter and closes his eyes, kisses Armitage on the lips gently and murmurs back, _“Both, please.”_  
Armitage’s smile widens and Unamo declares that she has enough to work with now. There’s a cheer as more guests are allowed back into the bar area, and a whistle as Armitage leads Ben away from the bar.

It starts in the elevator. As soon as the doors close, Armitage crowds Ben into a corner and kisses him, one hand fisting in his hair and the other cupping the front of his shorts. Ben claps his hands solidly over Armitage’s ass and moans in appreciation as Armitage rubs him hard through two layers of fabric. They have a quick dash from the elevator to the suite, fumbling the keycard in their haste to get inside. Ben makes for the balcony, hindered by Armitage peeling his clothes off him. Ben loses his shoes by the door, his shirt by the coffee-table, his shorts by the sofa and as he pauses to open the French windows, he giggles as Armitage pulls his underwear to his ankles. Ben steps out and emerges onto the balcony nude.

Armitage openly admires Ben’s body. Ben catches him ogling and laughs. “You can have it, you know. Touch whatever takes your fancy.”  
“I intend to,” Armitage says. A brief cloud passes over his expression as he thinks of what _Someone_ would say—has said—about his behaviour, then it passes as he raises his eyes to meet Ben’s open, honest smile. He steps forwards and guides Ben back to sit on the padded wicker sofa, then tosses the cushion from one of the chairs onto the floor and kneels on it. He puts one hand on each of Ben’s knees and pushes his legs apart, shuffling closer and reaching behind to pull the low wicker table closer. “Feet up,” he says.  
Ben rests his toes on the edge of the table. “This feels wrong,” he says. “I like it.”  
Armitage laughs and retrieves the lube he’d stashed under the corner of the sofa cushion. “Relax. Nobody will see.” A thought strikes him. “Would you like it if someone might see us? See you get sucked off and fingered?” Ben bites his lip. Armitage sees the glint in his half-closed eyes and grins. “Noted and stored for future reference,” he says. “Who might catch us?”  
Ben just grins and slowly shakes his head. Armitage smiles, leans down and kisses the tip of his cock. He sucks kisses down the shaft and keeps going, taking one of Ben’s balls into his mouth and sucking on it gently while Ben makes glorious sounds in the background. Armitage moves his attention to Ben’s other ball, playing the tip of his tongue over the wrinkled skin and rough texture of Ben’s body hair. He’s glad Ben hasn’t shaved there. Armitage runs his fingertips through the thatch of springy, glossy black curls at the base of Ben’s cock. It feels soft, like he hasn’t even trimmed, and Armitage is struck by a feeling somewhere between relief and pride that Ben trusts him with such intimacy with his body. It occurs to him that Ben simply might not care for fashions in grooming. _Perhaps,_ he thinks, _I can let mine have the natural look too._

Armitage works his way back up Ben’s shaft to the head of his cock and sucks on it for a few seconds, listening to Ben’s sighs and groans and frequent words of praise. The effusive encouragement makes Armitage want to spin this out, see how long he can build it up for Ben before bringing him off with a well-aimed wiggle of his fingers. He smiles around Ben’s cock. It’s a long way from how _Someone_  preferred to get off as quickly as possible to get it over with. Armitage dismisses that thought and replaces it with a view of Ben looking down at him, smiling, dark, dark eyes glittering in the remaining glimmer from the sky.  
“You’re beautiful like this too,” Ben says, sweeping stray hair back from Armitage’s eyes. “For the next two days I want us to stay in bed, order room service meals, and never look into another camera.”  
“I want a picture of me holding your enormous cock,” Armitage says. “In case my memory diminishes it between-times.”  
“Are you saying you want to see me again after this is over?”  
_“See_ you?” Armitage laughs and clambers up to kiss Ben on the lips. “I want to see you and feel you and suck that glorious member until I fall asleep with your come on my skin.”  
“Fuck yes,” Ben says. “Let’s fix a date to do that.”

Armitage kisses Ben again and Ben holds on to his head to prolong the kiss. He only releases Armitage when Armitage murmurs across his lips, _that cock isn’t going to suck itself, is it?_ Ben laughs and Armitage sinks back down to lick from base to tip with a wide, flat tongue then suck the head into his mouth again. He decides not to use his hands just yet. He eases his lips down over as much of Ben’s cock as he can take, stopping when he thinks he might gag and backing off a little. Slowly, he pulls up until the head of Ben’s cock barely rests on his lips then pushes down again. Ben is making the most wonderful noises Armitage has ever heard, and the whine of complaint Ben makes when Armitage eventually lets his cock slap back onto his belly almost makes Armitage giggle. He sucks a wet, sloppy kiss to the base, mouths over Ben’s balls again and sinks lower, planting a palm on each inner thigh to push Ben’s legs further apart and further up. He trails a pointed tongue along the ridge that leads from Ben’s balls to his entrance then flattens and softens his tongue again and licks a wide, wet stripe forwards, up over his balls and back again.

Ben is barely comprehensible. Armitage thinks he makes out _fuck me that’s amazing_ and _want you in me_ amongst the soft moans and sighs and hitched breathy groans of pleasure. He flicks his tongue over Ben’s entrance, feeling the ridges of the puckered skin over the tight muscle, then circles the hardened point of it a few times before resting for half a minute, sucking open-mouthed, soft-lipped kisses between Bens thighs. A movement distracts him. Ben’s hand has moved to grip his cock. Armitage sits back on his heels and slaps Ben’s arse.  
“Hands off,” he says. “No cheating.”  
Ben looks at Armitage with surprise, then laughs and moves his hand away. “Fucking fuck,” he says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”  
Armitage rewards him with a long, soft, suck up the shaft and a kiss to the head, and Ben grips the cushions either side of his head. “Good boy,” Armitage says. “You are being very patient. If you can keep your hands off yourself, maybe you can have a reward. Think about what you would like.” Ben sucks his lower lip into his mouth and his cock twitches. Armitage smiles and mouths his way back to Ben’s entrance. This time, he pushes the tip of his tensed, pointed tongue into the centre of the pucker and feels it spasm once. He pushes harder, feeling the first tight ring yield. He tries to push deeper but cramp threatens and he backs off, stretching his jaw and rolling his tongue. Instead, he reaches for the lube, drizzles the slick gel on Ben’s entrance and slips his forefinger inside. He disguises a yawn as a kiss to Ben’s inner thigh then sits up a little and lavishes attention on Ben’s cock. It only takes a couple of minutes of Armitage sliding his finger in and out of Ben’s hole, finding and rubbing over his prostate while he holds Ben’s cock in his mouth, to have Ben helpless and cursing and trying to thrust. When he thinks Ben can’t take much more, he moves his head up and down in time with his finger thrusts. He hears Ben’s climax approach in the change to Ben’s vocalisations and breathing, and he steels himself so that when Ben spurts hot salty fluid, he can swallow.

Armitage slides his finger free and wipes his mouth with the back of his other hand. Ben lies back, eyes closed, face still set in an expression of rapture. Armitage laughs. “Was that okay?”  
“Fucking hell,” Ben says. “I thought I knew about sex. I am... I am...”  
“Shagged?” Armitage suggests. “What did you think of as your reward?”  
Ben just looks at him and smiles. Armitage laughs, takes his hand and leads him into the bathroom, strips, turns on the shower and pulls Ben under the double spray with him to rinse off. Ben holds him close and kisses him, then suppresses a yawn. They get ready for bed, and Ben slips between the cool sheets nude. Armitage pulls the shirt he stole from Ben over his head.  
“You’re actually gonna wear that?” Ben asks as Armitage also pulls up his pyjama shorts.  
“I’ve never slept naked,” he says, getting into bed and snuggling up to Ben, head on Ben’s shoulder and hand caressing Ben’s chest. Ben laughs and rolls him onto his back, pulls open the front of his shorts (they will never find where the button landed after clattering off the wall) and takes his entire length into his hot mouth. Armitage gasps and squeals and giggles, breathes hard when he feels the precipitous rise towards his climax, taps Ben’s shoulder to warn him that he won’t last, and comes in Ben’s mouth in under two minutes. Ben pulls off, gets up to rinse his mouth, comes back and kisses Armitage who is still lying like a starfish with the sheet kicked off.  
“I promise I can make that last a lot longer,” Ben says, pulling Armitage back into his side.  
“Did you hear me complain?” Armitage replies. “After what we did on the balcony I think I would have come if you’d just _said_ ‘fellatio’ in a sexy voice.”  
“Oh?” Ben turns his head to rest close to Armitage’s ear. He lowers his voice and murmurs, _”Fellatio. Fel-l-l-lati-o-o-oh. FellAAAtioooo.”_  
Armitage sniggers. “Shut up. Go to sleep.”  
Ben slips his hand under the waistband of Armitage’s shorts and cups his arse. Armitage snorts, wriggles, writhes and kicks, and his shorts land somewhere on the floor.

When Armitage wakes up, he is on his back with Ben half on top of him. He stretches and yawns, and Ben shifts just enough to let him then settles down again. Armitage pets Ben’s hair and says, “Good morning.”  
“Mmm,” Ben says, leaning in to the touch. “Morning. Let’s order room service breakfast and have a quickie before it arrives.”  
Armitage laughs and pushes Ben off. He gets out of bed and stretches properly. “You order. I need to pee.”  
By the time Armitage has gone through his morning routine and put on a hotel robe, breakfast has already arrived. Still nude, Ben is frowning at a piece of paper. “We have been summoned,” he says. “Phasma’s office.”  
“Oh good,” Armitage says as he pours a cup of coffee. “Unamo must have finished the promo video. That means we have today and tomorrow free. What time do we have to present for inspection?”  
Ben looks at the time on his phone. “Too soon,” he says. “Damn.”  
Armitage slips his arms around Ben’s waist then slides both hands down to his ass. “That’s okay,” he says. “I want to take time over this...” He gives Ben’s ass a squeeze, “...later.”

Dressed, fed and barely able to keep their hands to themselves, Armitage and Ben stroll up to reception. The receptionist waves them through and Phasma’s office door is open. They go in. Phasma smiles and points at two plastic chairs crammed into the space opposite her desk. They sit. “Good morning. Thank you for coming.” Phasma smiles a little wider. “I must say, I am very pleased with the promotional shoot so far. Unamo has kept me up to date and will be spending the rest of the week putting the final video together.”  
“So it’s basically finished?” Armitage says.  
Phasma’s smile drops a little. “Ye-e-es, but you agreed to five days’ of promotional work for First Order Resorts. You will be moved to our sister resort this morning, ready to begin filming their promotional material this afternoon.”  
Armitage’s face falls and his cheeks flare red. “Absolutely not.”  
“You have to,” Phasma says with a cool shrug. “You signed a contract.”  
“I did no such thing!”  
Phasma swivels her chair and flicks through manila files in a box-file, then pulls one out. She extracts a double sided sheet of paper and hands it to Armitage, pointing at a sentence of tiny text two thirds of the way down the second side. “You did.”  
Armitage reads and checks the signature at the bottom. “I have no recollection of—”  
His words dry up. Of course he remembers. Moden had told him it was just a routine form, a kind of resort code of conduct, and not to worry about it. Moden had told him he’d read it and it checked out, presented him with a pen when he was between putting on his coat and leaving the flat on his way to work a few weeks ago. Of course he’d signed it.  
“That bastard!” he says with bitterness. “Moden tricked me into signing this. You can’t make Ben participate though. Moden signed one too, I assume? Not Ben?”  
“That’s true,” Phasma concedes. “But if you default on this for lack of a partner, First Order Resorts can hold you accountable for the cost of hiring replacements for the entire week. And then charge you for expenses incurred this week. You know, services you have enjoyed without payment. Would you like an itemised list?”  
“Send it to Moden Canady.”  
“Oh, we will. But you’re _here_ and that makes it easier.”

Armitage thinks he might either rage or cry. He sits still apart from his fists clenching and unclenching. Then he turns to Ben. “You’re a lawyer. How do I get out of this?”  
Ben reaches a hand over and encloses one of Armitage’s fists. “Stand your ground. If they insist on chasing you with this, it will create so much bad publicity that it will not be worth their while.”  
Phasma glares at Ben. “Is that a threat? Do you intend to smear First Order Resorts?”  
Ben shrugs. “Up to you.”  
“I hoped to avoid the unpleasantness associated with dealing with our legal team but your threat leaves me no option. Wait while I make a call. Perhaps our new hot-shot lawyer can talk some sense into you.”  
Phasma reaches for the phone on the desk, runs her finger down the row of pre-set buttons and presses one of them. She glares at Ben while waiting for the call to connect.  
“Ah good morning,” she says in her most professionally pleasant voice. “This is Phasma from the Mar Y Palmeras resort. Please can you put me through to Kylo Ren’s office? Yes, I’ll hold.”  
There is half a minute of uncomfortable silence. Ben’s phone chirps and buzzes in his pocket. He leans closer to Armitage and murmurs, “Sorry, babe, got to get this one.” When he holds the phone to his ear, he glares back at Phasma and says, “Sure, go ahead.”  
“Thank you,” Phasma says into her phone a few seconds later. “Hi, am I speaking to Kylo Ren?”  
Ben grins at her, waves, and says, “Yes. What do you want?”

Phasma stares in confusion and slowly lowers the receiver to its cradle. “You,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re Kylo Ren?”  
Ben smirks. “Hot shot lawyer for First Order Resorts. Who would have thought it, huh? Armitage and I have given you what you originally asked for. Drop this. Stop threatening my fiancé.”  
“He’s not your fiancé.”  
“Whirlwind romance. Swept off my feet. I proposed, he said yes. He’s my fiancé.”  
Armitage looks across at Ben. He fights the growing panic that threatens to erupt like magma from his ribcage and keeps his face and voice as even as he possibly can. “Your name is Kylo Ren.”  
“Yes.”  
“I see. Excuse me.”  
Armitage stands up, banging the back of the plastic chair hard against the wall, and walks out. He keeps walking, through the doors at the back of the hotel and down the beach to where the sea foam washes over compacted sand. He doesn’t stop until the remains of the breaking waves make the water bulge up above his knees and wet the hems of his shorts. For a few seconds he considers wading out and swimming. Just to see how far he can get. To stop himself, he drops to his knees and feels cold seawater ease its way up his hips and as high as his waist.

He has no idea how long he kneels in the shallows while the sea recedes with the tide. There is no such thing as time while he thinks. He watches the waves, hears the whoosh and crash of the breakers, sees gulls soar and cormorants dive, and waits for his mind to settle on a course of action. He could go back to the suite, pack and leave. Get to the airport and trade in his ticket for an earlier flight. Go home. Except it hits him that he can’t. Home is where Modem lives and he is _fucking fucked_ if he’s setting foot in that apartment ever again. He could call someone, ask for a bed for a few nights until he finds a new place, rely on pity even if it chokes him. But most of his contacts are people he knows through Moden or his father, or work colleagues. There’s always Tritt Opan, he thinks with the tiniest huff and roll of his eyes, but he’s not ready for the inevitable awkward misunderstandings if he calls someone he had an affair with once and says he broke up with his boyfriend. He could find a cheap motel and—

Armitage turns at the sounds of splashing footsteps behind him. It’s Ben. Armitage squints in the sunlight and Ben moves so that his shadow falls over Armitage.  
“Found you.” Ben reaches out his hand. Armitage flinches away and scowls. “I looked everywhere, then I saw your hair from the balcony.”  
“You lied,” Armitage says, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet, sand clinging to his shins and knees. “You said your name was Ben Solo. Have you told me anything true about yourself?”  
“I said I was a lawyer,” Ben says. “That’s true. I really was supposed to meet my cousin but she got offered a job interview and had to cancel. Poe really is my ex. And my name actually is Ben Solo, or it was before I changed it.”  
Armitage snaps at Ben. “You think you’re going to win that one on a technicality?”  
“Win what?” Ben glares at Armitage. “I have honestly no idea why you’re so pissed at me.”  
Armitage feels his anger surge. He lowers his voice so that Ben has to lean closer. “I thought I’d met, purely by chance, a hot guy who was impulsive and exciting, unlike Moden, generous, unlike Moden, treated me like an autonomous human being, unlike Moden, fucking _considerate_ , unlike Moden. And most of all,” Armitage pauses to take a deep breath and yells his last four words. “NOT A FUCKING LIAR!” _I thought I’d met the One. I thought fate did this. I fantasised that we’d be telling this as a cute story to our grandkids. I thought I thought I thought._

Armitage finishes his tirade by bursting into tears. Ben lurches forward and catches him in his arms, holds him close, strokes and kisses his hair. “I wanted to tell you who I am and what I’m doing here,” he said. “I was going to. Tonight. Once we didn’t have someone spying on us all the time.”  
“I don’t get it, Ben. Kylo.”  
“Ben. I’m Ben for you. Ben for my cousin and for that asshole Dameron. I’m only Kylo for work.”  
“Why lie in the first place?” Ben is quiet for a minute. Armitage shifts in his arms, placing both hands flat on his chest and pushing just hard enough that Ben can feel it. “You better not be concocting your next lie.”  
“I was sent here,” Ben said. “First Order Resorts bought the hotel out a month ago. I was sent to check the place out because I worked behind the scenes to make the buyout happen. Nobody knows my face, but they know my name. My other name.”  
“Check the place out.”  
“Yeah. Get a feel for the place. Decide what to keep, what needs to be changed. Who to promote. Who to fire. It looks suspicious if I travel alone. The staff can spot if someone is reviewing the hotel. So I suggested to my cousin that she rope in a couple of friends and we book as a group, then see how many freebies we could get.” He laughs. “She thinks I’m a grifter.”

“Why me?” Armitage is still pushing gently, but without enough force to move Ben. “You didn’t need to involve me in any of that.”  
“Honestly?” Ben flinches at the look in Armitage’s face. “I mean that. Honestly. I saw you on your balcony and you looked. I dunno. Like you wouldn’t mind some company. Then when I went for dinner, I asked the hostess what the fancy champagne was for and she said it was for a proposal but only one half of the couple had arrived. I took a guess that it was the unhappy looking guy in the next room to me and I did _not_ want to sit with Poe _Fucking_ Dameron and Mister Right. So I said—”  
“You said _Oh that’s me_.”  
“Yeah.”  
“And you proposed.”  
“Yeah.”  
“To someone you’d literally just met.”  
“We got along pretty well, so, yeah.”  
“Like an idiot.”  
“Says the man who said yes to someone he’d literally just met.”  
Armitage drops his hands to Ben’s waist. “You should have told me that same night,” he says.  
“I know. I’m sorry.”  
Armitage looks away. An idea strikes him. He looks into Ben’s eyes and he raises one eyebrow. “If I’d slept with Mitaka, would you have had him fired?”  
“Immediately,” Ben says. “Into the Sun.”

Armitage doesn’t quite want to forgive Ben, but he can’t help himself. He leans into Ben’s embrace to hide his smile then pulls away and takes Ben’s hand. They walk back up to the hotel, remove their shoes at the entrance and pad barefoot across the lobby to the elevators, leaving wet sand on the carpet. Upstairs, Armitage heads straight for the shower. Ben follows, waiting by the door until Armitage beckons him in. They strip and leave their sand-soiled clothing on the floor. Under the spray, Armitage holds onto Ben and speaks very quietly.  
“No more lies. No more omissions.”  
“Agreed.”  
“Are you going to fire Phasma?”  
“Hell, no. She’s good. But I won’t tell her that until we’re done here.”  
“Aren’t you done here already?” Armitage asks. “You cover is blown.”  
“I have a report to write,” Ben says. “You know. Recommendations to make. And an ethereally gorgeous redhead to entertain.”  
Armitage sighs then smiles. His problems are two days distant and that’s far enough not to matter today. When he gets out of the shower, he finds a chain motel not too far from his workplace and books a two week stay.

To distract themselves, they spend the rest of the day on a trolley-bus tour, getting off at each stop to explore the area, having lunch in the café of the art gallery and dinner at a seafood restaurant beside the marina. When they return to the hotel, it is already dark and there is a new band playing at the beach bar.  
“I want to dance with you,” Ben says. Armitage smiles and nods and they walk down to the bar and join the small crowd on the wooden decking that serves as a dance floor. Armitage sees that Dameron is there with his arms around his fiancé, and he admits to himself that they make a handsome pair. Unamo is there without her camera. She waits for the song to finish then sidles over.  
“Hi. I should be finished editing the video by dinnertime tomorrow if you want a preview. It looks good.” She smiles. “You both look good. Really convincing. You do know you don’t have to pretend any more, right?”  
“Yeah we know,” Ben says. “But it helps if we keep the illusion going all week.”  
“Yes,” Armitage adds. “Wouldn’t want any guests going home, sharing the promotional material and saying _Oh yes, that’s a good place to go for a break-up._ ”  
Ben hands her his phone. “Would you take one more picture?”  
Unamo laughs and snaps a photo of Armitage and Ben cheek to cheek, smiling into the lens. When she has gone, Armitage holds Ben close, swaying to the music, and confesses, “After the past few days, I can’t believe we just tried to convince someone that we’re _not_ — Well. I don’t want to go through tomorrow knowing it’s our last day and last night together.”  
Ben rubs the back of his waist and kisses his temple. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Armitage follows Ben through the crowd, across the beach and into the hotel. They are silent in the lobby, fingers linked as they wait for the elevator. Once the door closes, Ben kisses Armitage, walks him the single step backwards against the wall of the elevator, and kisses him again with growing urgency. Armitage laughs as the elevator accelerates and decelerates to their floor.  
“Are you planning to distract me with sex?”  
“Will it work?”  
“No.”  
They step out of the elevator and Ben opens the suite door. “In that case I will try _persuading_ you with sex.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and calls up a web page, handing it to Armitage. He takes off his shoes. “The Harbormaster’s House Hotel.” The shirt comes off next and Ben takes Armitage’s free hand and places it on his chest. “Real fancy. Just been acquired for First Order Resorts.” Ben shimmies out of his shorts and Armitage goes pink at Ben’s lack of underwear. “I _propose,_ ” Ben says, giving Armitage an exaggerated wink and unfastening the buttons on his shirt from the bottom up, “that we book a three day stay in a standard double in your name, you call ahead and say you plan to propose to your partner, and would there be any chance of an upgrade since it’s off-season and the suite will likely be vacant.”  
Armitage stares at Ben, who is doing his best with the button fly of Armitage’s shorts. “Are you _seriously_ suggesting—”  
“Hear me out!” Ben waves his hands and points at the list of facilities. “First Order will pay for everything. Three nights in a luxury suite. Use of—“ Ben stops. He sighs. “I guess it’s stupid.”  
Hux takes his phone out too and kicks off his shorts. He grins at Ben and says, “When’s good for you?”


	5. Ring

“Have you seen it?” Armitage bristles with indignation as at the dark screen where Ben’s face should be. The screen flares bright then Ben’s sleepy face comes into view, grainy and tinged with yellow. “Ninety seconds! All that work for ninety fucking seconds of video.”  
“Good morning, sunshine,” Ben says, rubbing his eyes and blinking. The picture pixellates for a couple of seconds and when it settles, Armitage sees that Ben’s hair is fanned out on his pillow and there’s a pink crease on his cheek. He wants to kiss it.  
“Sorry. Time zones. I forgot.”  
“It’s okay, babe. Always good to hear from you. Even at...” Ben’s head turns and the image shifts again, flaring and settling on the pale glowing numerals of Ben’s clock.  
“Oh fuck. I really am sorry. I’ll call you in a few hours.”  
“Mm. Stay and tell me a story to help me get back to sleep,” Ben says. “Wait, I’ll prop you up.”  
The image swims and pixellates again then he sees Ben in grainy profile. Ben turns to blow him a kiss then closes his eyes.  
Armitage laughs. “Well then. Have I ever told you the story of The Dark Prince and the Cock-Sucking Sea-Sprite?”  
Ben smiles. “No you have not. Does it have a happy ending?”  
“Depends how long you can stay awake.”  
“I think I can manage,” Ben says. “For ninety seconds.”  
“Very well,” Armitage says with a grin. “I will skip the world-building and get straight to the action. Once upon a time, a handsome dark prince went swimming in the ocean and met...”

Story finished and Ben contentedly snoring for another couple of hours at least, Armitage makes instant coffee and watches the resort promotional video again. It’s good, he concedes. There are a few moments he freeze-frames and steps through to capture just the right expression on Ben’s face before taking a screenshot. These he saves in an album of their own. He checks the time, takes a shower, packs his work bag and heads to the motel breakfast bar for some slightly better coffee and a bagel. He doesn’t stay. The relentless cheer of the Weather Channel drives him away. _At least it’s only for a few more days,_ he reassures himself. _And Moden doesn’t know where I live._ That last thought leaves Armitage with a stab of guilt.

As Armitage drives to work, memories of their last two days together tumble around in his head. A song they danced to comes on the radio and he feels Ben’s hands, warm on his hips. He sees a quick toss of ebony hair and he can smell the salt in Ben’s soft waves after swimming in the ocean. He catches a glint when a sunbeam reflects off the ring he is still wearing and his head floods with the memory of saying goodbye at the airport.

 _”My flight’s been called. I really have to go.”_  
_”Get on my flight instead. I’ll buy you a ticket.”_  
_”Don’t tempt me. Alas, I have to go back to work to earn enough money to rent a decent place of my own.”_  
_”I’ll come to your gate with you.”_  
_”You don’t have time. Your gate is at the other end of the airport.”_  
_”What are you doing?”_  
_”Taking the ring off. I got so used to wearing it I forgot we don’t need to any more.”_  
_”Are you... are you... breaking up with me?”_  
_”Oh now, don’t do the calf-eyes and the trembly chin at me! I will NOT be caught weeping in an airport. How embarrassing. You really want us to keep wearing these? I mean, we’re not actually engaged as in actually planning to get married, are we?”_  
_”I’m keeping mine on. It’s a little tight on my finger and glows like fire in direct sunlight. Reminds me of someone.”_  
_”Hah! I will wear mine too, then. I’ll text you from the gate.”_  
_”And from the plane.”_  
_”And I will call you when I get to my sad little motel room.”_  
_”Uuugh last call. You really better go. One more hug?”_  
_”Okay. C’m’ere.”_

A horn blast brings Armitage back into the present and he pulls away from the traffic lights. When he arrives at work, he pre-empts awkward questions by telling one of his assistants that he and Moden have broken up and he does not want to talk about it under any circumstances. Within two hours, Armitage estimates, Lank Paze has made sure that _everyone_ knows. Only Tritt Opan dares to say anything. Armitage looks up from his latest dataset on fuel efficiency to see Opan lurking in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee and a bag containing an iced donut. He rolls his eyes and waves the man in.  
“Breaking up can be tough. I brought you the traditional offering of mild stimulants and glucose.”  
Armitage laughs. “Thank you.” He flips the lid off the coffee to let it cool faster and reaches for the donut. Tritt points and whistles.  
“So the rumours are true!”  
“What?”  
Opan points at Armitage’s left hand. “Who’s the lucky fucker who stole you out from under Canady’s nose?”  
Armitage grits his teeth and reminds himself that this is just a trial he has to endure.  
“First,” he snaps, glaring at Tritt. “I was not stolen because I was never property. Leaving Canady was my decision based on how Canady treats me and has nothing to do with anyone, _anyone,_ else.” He sips his coffee and scalds the roof of his mouth. “Secondly, I resent the assumption that I left Canady because I had a better offer.”  
“Just asking,” Tritt says, backing away slightly. “Just interested, that’s all. You do know I’m _interested,_ don’t you?” Tritt gives a half-shouldered shrug. “But not if there’s someone else. For the record, I’m glad you left the old fart even if it wasn’t for me.”  
Armitage is quiet, carefully exploring the stinging feeling of the roof of his mouth with his tongue. He sighs. “Well then. It’s done.” Tritt turns to leave. As he goes out, Armitage says quietly, “He’s called Ben.”  
Tritt looks back with a grin and a wink. He starts moving again but stops, walks two paces backwards into Armitage’s office, turns and says, “Where are you living now? Want me to go update your home address on your personnel record?” Armitage looks at his screen. Tritt steps closer. “Armitage?”  
Armitage rolls his eyes. “I booked a room at the _Stay Inn_ motel until I find an apartment.”  
Tritt’s eyelids open so wide it looks like his eyes bulge. “No. No way. Tonight, get your stuff if it hasn’t been stolen yet and come to mine.”  
“Tritt—”  
“I mean it.”  
“My _stuff_ is all at Moden’s.”  
“Want me to send a team round to go get it? _Matter of national security_ and all that?”  
Armitage laughs at the mental image of a security team showing up to ransack Moden’s apartment and expunge all traces of Armitage Hux from the premises. “No,” he says. He thinks of the motel’s limited broadband and looks at Tritt. “But I will take you up on the offer of somewhere to stay that isn’t... isn’t...”  
“Nasty?”  
“That. Thank you.” Armitage shudders.

It doesn’t take long to pack at the motel. He texts Ben to say he is staying with a friend and will Skype later, and soon he is settled into the tiny spare bedroom of Tritt’s little terraced house, a new-build clearly designed for a young couple planning to start a family then move on. The entire downstairs is living, dining and kitchen area, all open plan with a railed staircase diagonally climbing one wall, and upstairs is partitioned into a double bedroom just big enough for a bed and a wardrobe, a single bedroom with a bed and a bedside unit, and a bathroom with a shower. Armitage wonders if he could find one like it, then quietly laughs at the mental image of Ben trying to fit beside him on a queen-sized bed like Tritt’s. Tritt calls upstairs to say he will order takeaway, and Armitage Skypes Ben. Ben‘s image smiles bright and clear.  
“Hey, Rocket-man! How was your day?”  
“Good, I guess. You?”  
“Good except that you were not in it. You got a new place to stay?”  
“Just a friend’s place until I find somewhere. I told him about you.”  
“Wifi seems pretty decent.”  
“Ha! Yes.”  
“Tell me about him then.”  
“Okay. He’s called Tritt Opan and we work together and—”  
_”Hey, Armie, food’s here. I got Netflix if you want to chill.”_  
“Oh my g— Ben, Tritt and I—“  
The stairs thump and the door squeaks open and Tritt’s head pokes round. “Have been friends for a while,” he says. “Nice to meet you, Ben, sort of. I promise I don’t fancy your boyfriend _very_ much until after my third gin and tonic. And I’m all out of gin.”  
Tritt retreats when Armitage throws his shoe at him. Armitage drops his head into his hands and peers through his fingers at Ben. Ben, thankfully, is laughing.  
“I’m glad you have someone to keep you company,” he says. “Have you seen your ex?”  
“No.”  
“You going to pull the early-pick-up stunt?”  
“The what?”  
“You say you’re coming over to pick up your things on, like, Friday afternoon. And he probably books the afternoon off to stay home and see you to _talk_. But you actually go on Thursday when he’s out so he misses you.”  
“Ben Solo, I think you may be some kind of genius.” Armitage smiles at the screen. “Either that or you’re very experienced at breaking up.”  
Ben holds his hands up. Armitage’s ring is still on his finger. Armitage smiles and rubs his eyes. Ben grins at him. “Hey go eat and watch a movie. Call me when you go to bed, okay?”  
“Okay.”

There’s a few seconds’ pause when neither ends the call and they stay looking at each other until Ben does a count down from five. Armitage disconnects on _lift off!_ then joins Tritt in the living room. They eat takeaway (Armitage insists on using plates) and half-watch a TV show until Tritt says, “So tell me about Ben.”  
“Gimme,” Armitage says, motioning for the remote control. He opens YouTube on Tritt’s smart TV, finds the promotional video he co-stars in and plays it. Tritt watches, mouth hanging open.  
“He’s... I can see why you like him. Go back gobackgoback.... there! See how he’s looking at you? He thinks you put the sun in the sky just for him.” Armitage looks at the shot of Ben staring at him in the spa. He remembers that look, right after they kissed. He remembers the kiss. There’s another image Tritt pauses, of Ben and Armitage dancing, looking at each other as if nothing else exists in the universe. Tritt whistles. “You and Moden never looked at each other like that. Shit, you never looked at me like that either!”  
Armitage shakes his head and shrugs. “I never met anyone like him before.”  
“You know,” Tritt looks away and then huffs out a laugh. “I’d’ve been up for a comfort fuck if you wanted it but now I’ve seen that, I won’t offer and I know you won’t ask.”  
Armitage punches him lightly on the arm.

The video ends and Armitage collects crockery and cutlery to wash up while Tritt deals with the containers. Armitage uses the shower then realises he has no robe and he has to dash out with a towel tucked around his waist. He finds his pyjamas then calls downstairs to to ask Tritt a favour.  
“Will you come with me to get my stuff from Moden’s place tomorrow lunchtime?”  
“Sure. Moden know you’re coming?”  
“No and I would like to keep it that way.”  
“Ah. You’re going to tell him you’re coming over on Friday.”  
“Fucking Hell, does everyone do that? I never broke up with anyone before.”  
Armitage goes downstairs. Tritt points at his own chest. “Except me.”  
“That was more of a mutual _we’re done with whatever that was,_ wasn’t it?”  
Tritt snorts and nods. “It was fun, though, wasn’t it?”  
“Yeah... yes.” Armitage smiles, residual awkwardness around Tritt replaced with warm affection. “It was what I needed at the time. Um.” Armitage looks serious again and holds out his phone. “I need to unblock Moden but I do not want to read any emails he might have sent me.”  
“You want me to do the honours?” Armitage nods gratefully. Tritt takes the phone, unblocks Moden’s contact card and waits for any messages to appear. “Nothing,” he says. “Whatever he had to say is lost to the aether.”  
Armitage sighs in relief and takes his phone back. He types a text to Moden to say he will come over for his belongings on... It’s only Tuesday. He decides to tell Moden he’ll be there Thursday morning and then block him again immediately. “Done,” he says. “Thanks.”

Armitage returns to the spare bedroom and Skypes Ben. Ben answers almost straight away.  
“Hey, starfish!”  
Armitage grins. “Hey... you. That’s unfair. I have no cute pet names for you.”  
Ben smiles. “You in bed yet?”  
“Hang on.” Armitage slides under the covers and repositions his iPad so that he can see Ben and Ben can see him. “I’m not used to sleeping in a single.”  
“You’re not tempted to sleep in your friend’s bed instead?”  
“No.” Armitage glares at Ben. “You know how there are people you like to hang out with but you don’t want to see naked?” Ben laughs and nods. “It’s like that.”  
“Okay. I just—”  
“—wondered if you could trust me, is that it?”  
“No!” Ben looks serious. “I wish I could be there to show you how much I miss you.”  
Armitage’s bad humour evaporates. “I miss you too,” he says quietly.  
Ben puts one finger to his lips and waggles his eyebrows. “Does your friend’s spare room have a lock on the door?”  
Armitage points at the wall beside him where the bed is pushed up against it. “No, but he won’t come in. I heard him go to bed too.”  
“In that case, I want to see more of you. Do you have room to move?”  
Armitage laughs softly. “Oh I _see_.” He sits up, crosses his legs and props up the iPad at the bottom of the bed. “Better?”  
“Mmhmm, but I still can’t see you properly.”  
“What do you want me to do?”  
“Take off your... is that the shirt I slept in?”  
“Yes and it still smells good so I don’t want to take it off.”  
“Okay. Lose the shorts though.”  
Armitage raises his hips and pushes his shorts down, then pulls them off and drops them. He makes a show of getting comfortable, leaning against pillows propped against the headboard and placing his feet apart, soles on the bedcover and knees bent. The artificial lighting gives Armitage’s skin a sallow, grainy texture and deep shadows.  
Ben stares and smiles. “Mind if I?”  
“My pleasure.”  
Ben adopts a similar position, fully naked in sunlight. Armitage admires the way his cock fills out and sways when Ben moves. Ben lowers his voice to a sultry murmur. “Is it my turn to tell a bedtime story?”  
“Yes, but you don’t have to.”  
“I want to. Don’t laugh. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...”

Ben tells a story about a handsome Sith Lord and a pretty General finding to their surprise that a lambda class shuttle only has one bunk. He has Armitage shift onto his knees, thighs apart, left hand clasping his cock and stroking himself hard, right hand slipping back to tease under his balls, all the while describing how Lord Kylo would fall to his knees for General Armitage and beg to be allowed to suck him off, and how General Armitage would let him, giving Lord Kylo instructions on what he likes. When Armitage comes then joins in with the dialogue to add that General Armitage would the like to fuck Darth Kylo into the flimsy mattress, Ben rubs around the base of his cock, strokes his balls and grips his shaft. Armitage can’t believe his luck when Ben disappears from view and returns a few seconds later with lube and a moderately large dildo. He lowers his voice, moves closer to the screen and informs Ben of _everything_ General Armitage wants to do to Lord Kylo, and Ben acts it all out for him. By the time he’s done, he’s hard again and the house is silent. There is one muffled groan from the other side of the wall separating Armitage’s room from Tritt’s.  
Armitage leans close to his iPad and says, “Sleep well. Dream about me.”  
“I will, my love. Five... Four... Three...”  
Armitage has disconnected on _We have ignition!_ when Ben’s casual _my love_ filters into his tired brain.

In the morning, Armitage rises early so that he is not in Tritt’s way. He texts Ben _good morning my love_ then showers, makes coffee, looks in Tritt’s cupboards and wonders about breakfast before deciding to buy a croissant from the drive-thru on the way to work. His phone buzzes as he gets into his car. He smiles at the single heart emoji from Ben. Work absorbs him from the instant he pulls into the car park and the rest of the universe recedes behind the simulations and calculations and models and test data that occupy Armitage every day. He makes notes: symbols in margins and words on sticky notes here and there ready for him to write reports and make recommendations for the next set of simulations and models. It’s lunchtime before he knows it and Tritt is lurking in his doorway.  
“Do you have a lot of stuff? I mean, do you need me to bring my car too?”  
“No,” Armitage shakes his head and his gel-free hair flops over his eyes. He sweeps it back with a hand. “I’m only picking up my clothes and a few books. It should all fit in mine.”  
The drive over to Moden’s place is awkward. Tritt asks if Armitage will move to be with Ben and Armitage says it’s too soon for big decisions, then catches a glint from the ring he hasn’t taken off since Ben put it back on his finger at the airport, and he goes quiet. There’s something about the way Tritt so casually assumed that he would be the one to move for Ben that irks him, and he find quite the right words to respond so he says northing.

When they arrive at Moden’s apartment, Armitage feels cool relief that Moden’s Jaguar F-Type is not in his reserved space. He unlocks the main door and goes upstairs furtively, resisting the temptation to shush Tritt for following him with footsteps that echo. He fears for a few seconds that his key will not turn in the lock, then it catches and clicks and the door opens. In the spare room that used to be his office, to Armitage’s surprise, is a neat stack of boxes and a note.

 _Armitage,_  
_I packed for you as soon as your text arrived in case you decided to come early. I have no idea why you feel the need to block me and avoid me unless you are afraid to face the truth that I can do better than settle for you. I was prepared to offer you everything and you acted as if I was some kind of monster. The hotel sent me a link to your video and after watching it I want you out of my life forever. How long have you been carrying on with him behind my back? I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that you manipulated me into booking the vacation then looked for the slightest excuse run off, ~~you ungrateful bas~~_  
_Moden_

Tritt reads around Armitage’s shoulder and laughs. “He can’t dump you after you already dumped him. Who the fuck does he think he is?” He points at the boxes. “Is this all of it?”  
Armitage marches into their— _Moden’s_ bedroom and pulls open doors and drawers. The drawers and rail that were his are now empty except for one drawer which opens to reveal one pair of underpants, one pair of socks, a shirt and a small wash bag containing a toothbrush, a comb and a razor. Everything looks and feels new. Armitage laughs. “I think he’s pretending to have replaced me already,” he tells Tritt. Tritt rolls his eyes. Armitage takes a photo of the note and of the open drawer then wedges the apartment door open and lifts the first box. “Come on. I want us out of here as quickly as possible.”

It takes twenty minutes to load up Armitage’s car. The last thing Armitage does is fold the note again along its original crease and drop it face down in the very corner of the room, behind where the boxes had been stacked. He leaves a separate note on the coffee table, _Thanks for packing!_ with a smiley face instead of the dot of the exclamation mark, weighed down with his copy of the apartment keys, and closes the door firmly behind him.

Back in his office, Armitage can’t settle. He almost sends Ben the two photos he took at Moden’s place but deletes the message before sending it, then deletes the photographs too. Instead he sends Ben a selfie, looking calm, then registers with a property rental company and sets up a search on their app. Everything is just a little more expensive than he thinks is reasonable or just a little too far away. Disheartened, he decides to cheer himself up with a tour of the fabrication facility just across the car park, where a dedicated team of engineers, computer scientists and technicians make his dreams come alive in materials most of the world has never heard of. He checks his phone at the reception area and submits to a thorough pat-down from the most polite and apologetic security guard he has ever met. He reads a name from their pass. Eventually he is issued with a keycard and a suit.  
“Thank you, Officer Bascus, but I do not intend to enter any of the clean rooms,” he says, handing the suit back.  
“Nevertheless,” Security Officer Suday Bascus reminds, “nobody may enter the facility without—”  
“Yes, yes I know that,” Armitage snaps. “I wrote the protocol handbook myself. Look.” He holds up his pass. Officer Bascus shrugs.  
“I really must insist that you change into the suit, sir. On your own orders.”  
“Do you want to be fired for obstructing the Lead Engineer?”  
“Better that than be fired for not following the Lead Engineer’s security policy.”  
Armitage sighs and takes the lint-free suit. An idea strikes him and he laughs. “Look, would you take a photo of me in the change area, wearing the suit?”  
“Personnel may not take photogr—”  
“Yes I know. I mean, take it on my phone then you’re in the clear.”  
“I’m afraid not, sir. It’s against protocol.”  
Armitage sets his jaw and puffs through his nose. He glares at the security officer. “Well done, Bascus.”

Despite the discomfort of the cleanroom suit and this annoyance at not even having a picture of himself dressed in it to send to Ben later, Armitage’s mood lifts as he observes the progress of his next prototype satellite through huge windows. Inside the engineering clean-rooms, white-suited, helmeted figures work to his design. He recognises components and materials, the structural foam that is strong yet incredibly lightweight, the golden sheen of heat reflectors that cover layers of insulation that will keep his electronics at a workable temperature whether they face the searing radiation of the Sun or sit in the shadows, mere millimetres away, just a few degrees above absolute zero. He admires the delicate struts that will unfold like spider legs and support the long, slim arrays of solar cells that will sit like a crown of petals and power the satellite’s electronics. He wonders if anyone really understands just how near-impossible it is to make something as gracefully beautiful and as devastatingly functional. He moves to the next observation window, where a second team of experts constructs the weapon that the satellite next door will carry and deploy. Elsewhere in the world, he thinks, someone is probably looking over the specs of the military rocket that will fling the whole project into a low Earth orbit, with no regard whatsoever as to its purpose. It sends a thrill down his spine. He smiles and waves at the technicians, who wave back when their hands are not otherwise occupied. He knows every face on this project, although he can’t see their smiles through their masks.

He stays in the fabrication facility until shift changeover, then makes his way back through security to collect his phone and exchange insincere pleasantries with Bascus. He picks up what he needs from his office and drives back to Tritt’s place. For a minute he sits in his car outside the small house, engine off, wondering if he should bring his boxes inside, then decides that he should not. He has one suit, two more clean shirts and just enough underwear to last another week if he uses Tritt’s washing machine on Friday evening. And he does not intend to be there for longer. Unpacking feels so _settled._ On a whim, he checks the property rental app again and holds his breath. He scrolls. His thumb hovers, and then he presses _Apply._

Of course he won’t hear back right away, but he waits for another minute anyway before getting out of his car and using Tritt’s spare key to let him into Tritt’s snug little house and going up to Tritt’s spare room. He opens his iPad and launches Skype. Ben answers and smiles out at him.  
“Hey my love, had a good day?”  
“Got my stuff from Moden’s place. He had the nerve to leave me a note, dumping me.”  
Ben laughs loud and Armitage can’t help laughing too.  
“What a class act he is. He can’t dump you when he’s the dumpee.”  
“That’s what Tritt said! Anyway, I think I found a place. To live. It just came on the market, like, an hour ago.”  
“Ooh, send me the details!”  
“I will, but—”  
“Do it now. I really want to see.”  
“Oh? Okay.” Armitage sends the link using his phone. Ben glances down a few seconds later and grins.  
“Call you back? Gotta do a thing.”  
Armitage remembers with a little warm guilt that it is still early afternoon where Ben is and he’s probably at work. “Of course, love,” he says with a warm smile. “Speak to you soon.”

Half an hour later, Armitage receives a notification that his application for the rental house has been successful and, pending employer references and the transfer of deposit and one month’s rent upfront, he can expect to move in within a week. He receives a second notification twenty minutes after that thanking him for the prompt payment of his deposit and six month’s rent. He’s frowning at his phone when Tritt arrives home for the evening with some shopping.  
“Oh! Hi,” Tritt says, smiling. “I um, got you a thing on the way home.” He holds out a bag bearing the logo of the electronics shop at the nearest mall. Armitage takes it and looks inside. His frown deepens.  
“It’s a... _bluetooth wireless headset._ Uh, thanks?”  
“Well,” Tritt looks away. Tritt _walks_ away and unpacks a bag of groceries in the kitchen area. “It works with, you know, Skype.” Armitage’s mouth dries as he listens to Tritt banging cupboard doors and rattling the contents of the fridge. “You know. You can. Um. Hear the other person. And speak to them. Quietly. Without. Um. Anyone overhearing.”  
“I found a house,” Armitage blurts out. “I can move into it in a week.”  
“Oh!” Tritt laughs and covers his cheeks with his hands. “I love you deeply as a friend, but thank fuck. I’m making food. Want to eat?”  
Armitage nods, closes his eyes, shakes his head to clear the memory of Tritt’s stifled groan heard through the wall last night, and bites his lip to prevent an embarrassed giggle. “I think I will go try out my new headset.”

“Hey, Rocket-man! Cute headset!”  
“Tritt got it for me because he heard us cyberfucking last night. I think he joined in on the other side of that wall.” Armitage points at the magnolia paintwork beside the bed. “Did you secure my lease for me?”  
Ben looks wary. “Uh, would it be a bad thing if I did?”  
“Remember how I left my controlling older boyfriend,” Armitage says slowly, “because he made arrangements that involved me in major life decisions without discussing it first?”  
“In that case, I definitely did not interfere in your search for a new place. I categorically deny paying your deposit and six months’ rent upfront because it worked out cheaper than paying monthly. And I’m younger than you.”  
_”You interfered with the search?”_  
“No! Honey, not in a bad way.”  
“All right. You have ten seconds to start explaining. Ten-one-thousand. Nine-one-thousand. Eight—”  
“Snoke has properties all over. I released one at an affordable rent and hoped you’d apply, and you did.”  
“So you got me a place to live.”  
Ben looks like he’s trying to hide out of frame. “Uh, ye-es?”  
Armitage chews his lip and looks away. He thinks of his life with Moden and the freedom Ben seemed to offer, his friendship with Tritt that threatens to disintegrate if they share such a small space for more than a few more days, and of the stress of searching for a suitable place to live.  
“Thank you,” he says. “I accept your generous offer.”  
Ben smiles in relief, but Armitage shakes his head and yawns. “I had a really stressful day. I’m going straight to sleep, okay?”  
“Of course,” Ben says. “Sweet dreams, my love. Five—”  
Hux disconnects the call and pulls off his headset. After minute of staring at his hand, he slips the ring from his finger and drops on the bedside table.


	6. Friends

Armitage sweeps towel-dried hair back from his face and sighs at his phone as it buzzes again on Tritt’s kitchen counter. He walks away carrying his bowl of honey nut cornflakes and sits on the sofa to eat breakfast, where a too-bright, too-cheery, _Good Morning Everyone!_ style show irritates him from the TV. He turns it off as Tritt lurches downstairs groaning something about coffee. Armitage adopts the fake cheer of the show. “Machine’s on, darling. What a wonderful day!”  
“Ugh. You’re far too perky for a Thursday,” Tritt replies as he shuffles past. “Thank you sweetheart.”  
Armitage watches Tritt pour coffee and spoon in sugar. He takes a few sips then tops up the mug. “You left your phone here,” he says. “You have messages.” The phone buzzes again and the screen lights up. Tritt huffs. “Lots of messages. Why aren’t you answering? Normally you’re glued to it but you’ve been in a pissy mood since you got your stuff back from Moden’s yesterday.”  
Armitage pulls his face into a frown. “Ben pulled a Moden.”  
“Uh?”  
“He found me a place to live, paid the deposit and six months rent on my behalf. All without mentioning a single word to me about it in advance. The property company won’t send his money back to him.”  
Tritt tops up his coffee again and brings Armitage’s phone over. “I’m getting in the shower. Talk to your hot, rich boyfriend. Unless he’s not your boyfriend any more because you’re some kind of idiot. Then I’ll talk to him instead, if you don’t mind.”  
Armitage grits his teeth. He hates being criticised most of all when he thinks the criticism might be justified. He glares at Tritt and holds out his hand. Tritt drops the phone into it, takes one more trip past the coffee machine then goes back upstairs.

Armitage reads the messages from Ben with a tight feeling in his chest. He checks his bank balance on his banking app and puts the phone in his pocket, then goes upstairs on footsteps softer than the clunk and hiss of the shower and writes Ben a cheque for the deposit and first month’s rent. On a whim, he takes a selfie with the cheque and sends it to Ben.  
_This will be in the expedited mail by 10am. I will send the rest when I can. Call me when you’ve banked it._  
Ben’s reply comes almost immediately. _The place is unfurnished. Won’t you need that?_  
Armitage types his reply and sends it immediately, before he can change his mind.  _Don’t tell me how to spend my money._  
Dots flash in Ben’s speech bubble for a long time as Armitage watches.  _So very fucking sorry for trying to help you out. Have a nice day._  
Armitage waits until he has driven to work, mailed the cheque, calmed down with data and spreadsheets, and eaten a doughnut before he replies to Ben.  
_I don’t want another sugar-daddy controlling my life._

The day passes slowly. There are meetings where Armitage takes notes and gives a progress report but can’t recall what was decided five minutes later and has to wait for the transcript to be emailed out. His phone stays silent and still on the desk until almost five, when it lights up with a call from the property company to tell him to check his email, print and sign each page of the lease, and drop it off at their local property rentals office in the morning if he wants to have the keys by the end of Friday so he can move in at the weekend. The property agent confirms that they will not return the rest of Ben’s payment to him, and expresses the opinion that it must be nice to have such a thoughtful, generous boyfriend. Armitage rolls his eyes at that and bites back a retort that the agent doesn’t deserve. He prints the lease, reads it, signs it everywhere indicated, steals a large envelope from someone else’s desk and takes a detour to deliver it on his way back to Tritt’s house.

The evening is filled with takeaway, Netflix, and silence from Ben. Tritt asks once if Ben is skyping later and Armitage pulls a face and shrugs.

Next day it’s dress-down Friday and Armitage is putting on his suit because all he has is his vacation clothing and the suit he bought so that he could avoid going back to Moden’s between airport and motel. He can’t face unpacking his clothes to find something suitably smart-casual and Tritt’s spare room is too small for him to bring in his boxes from the car anyway. All he can think about is how Ben should get his cheque today, bank it, and call. He remembers eventually that he should also get his keys today and he can move out of Tritt’s house before he outstays his welcome. It has been four nights and the little inconveniences are beginning to grate, like Tritt’s taste in breakfast cereal and reality TV shows that both leave Armitage wanting to gag. He knows too that his habit of rising early and getting in the shower annoys Tritt. Armitage himself moves quietly around the house in the mornings, but there is no way to shush the plumbing or the creak of the stairs.

He packs all his things back into his cabin-approved case then goes downstairs and makes coffee. When Tritt appears, still pink from the shower, Armitage pours him a mug and stirs in two heaped spoons of sugar. He pushes it across the countertop and Tritt hums in approval.  
“Do you have plans tonight?” Armitage asks. “Friday night stuff?”  
Tritt shrugs. “Will you think I’m getting old and boring if I say I’d rather eat pizza and watch TV than go out on the lash?”  
Armitage laughs. “Yes, but I won’t condemn you for it. I can pick up the keys today.”  
“Oh? I’ll help you move in, if you want.”  
“Thank you. It won’t take long. You have seen everything I own.”  
Tritt nods then frowns. “Your new house is furnished, right?” Armitage shakes his head. Tritt rolls his eyes. “Fucking hell, man. Okay. You should call the agency first thing to double check there’s water and electricity connected already. Ask if there’s broadband and satellite or cable. You get your keys, we go for a look, then we blow off the rest of the afternoon and go to Ikea.”  
Armitage is dumbfounded. After a minute, he looks at Tritt and says, “how do you just know all this? I mean, what to do?”  
Tritt laughs. “Look, you’re a brilliant weapons engineer but you’ve never had to set your life up for yourself, have you?”  
“No,” Armitage says, face flushing with shame. “I moved out of my father’s house and into Moden’s apartment. And that’s it.”  
“From daddy to sugar daddy,” Tritt says, then grins at Armitage’s thunderous expression and punches his arm. “What’s your secret, you jammy bastard?”

Work is frantic on Fridays because Armitage likes to do as much as he can with the week’s test data before the weekend so that he isn’t stressed about Monday and doesn’t feel obliged to come in for a few hours on Saturday. He receives a text around twelve to confirm that Ben has, reluctantly, banked Armitage’s cheque and to ask if he can call yet. Armitage replies with, _call you this evening moving in today,_ then follows up a few minutes later with, _thank you._ Ben responds with a heart emoji and Armitage sighs at it. By lunchtime, the property company has left a voicemail to say that he can collect the keys and a copy of the inventory at his convenience. He finds Tritt in the staff canteen and arranges that they can both leave at three.

The house echoes as they rattle from room to room. Although it is not particularly large, it is open plan and modern like Tritt’s place but has a separate kitchen and the bedrooms are both bigger. Armitage’s pile of boxes looms in the corner of the living area. Tritt tests the taps and the plug sockets and Armitage confirms that there is no internet. Tritt comes back into the living room, feet clomping on bare floorboards.  
“Priorities?” he asks, waiting for Armitage to stop frowning at the plain magnolia walls, exposed floorboards and blind-less windows.  
“Broadband.”  
Tritt laughs. “Of course.”

Three hours later, they are back with a ready-to-go broadband-in-a-box package, a microwave oven, a coffee maker, a cheap dinner set and as much flatpack furniture as would fit in the folded down backs of two fashionably sporty hatchbacks. Armitage builds a small sofa in the living room while Tritt sets up the home wifi, then they both go upstairs and set about putting together Armitage’s new futon, which seems to consist of a ridiculous number of parts that all slot together to form a folding frame with a slatted wooden base. The vacuum-packed mattress fluffs up a little with vigorous shaking that makes Armitage’s arms ache and he slings it on top and lies down.  
Tritt grins. “Move over.”  
Armitage shuffles across and Tritt lies down too. “Got any linens in those boxes of yours?”  
Armitage groans and facepalms. Tritt rolls off the bed and onto all fours then stands up.  
“Come on. Round two.”  
“I need to call Ben first.”  
“Okay,” Tritt hauls Armitage up with both hands. “I’ll put up the clothes rail. You can call Ben, make a shopping list, then buy me Swedish meatballs and caramel-apple cake for dinner.”

Ben picks up on the first ring.  
_”Hey, babe!”_  
“Hi, Ben.”  
_”You moved in?”_  
“Yes, but I need to get a few more things so I can stay here tonight.”  
_”What do you need? I love new house shopping.”_  
“Oh, all the usual stuff I expect. Bedding. Towels. Curtains. Rugs. A TV. Cooker. Fridge. Some pots and pans, I suppose. Cutlery. Food. A sofa that’s actually big enough for two people to sit on without getting intimate. Chairs. A table. A desk. A chair for the desk. Bookshelves.”  
_”Shit! Slow down. Don’t you have things from your old place?”_  
“Everything was Moden’s. I’m—“ He falters on the word _useless_. “I can design space-going technology but I didn’t even know how to get internet. Tritt helped out a lot.”  
_”I wish I hadn’t banked your cheque now. It’s expensive starting from scratch.”_  
Anger flares in Armitage’s gut. “You don’t say!”  
_”Hey, love, sorry. This must be stressful, but I—”_  
“But you what?” Armitage wants to yell but he can hear Tritt swearing at the cheap toolkit they bought with the furniture. “But you thought I’d be more competent? An actual grown up who has life experience and knows what to do? Shit, Ben I—”  
_”DON’T TELL ME WHAT I THINK!”_  
“WHY NOT!” Armitage can’t keep his voice under control. He hears it breaking and can’t stop it. “IT’S WHAT EVERYONE ELSE THINKS! SORRY TO DISAPPOINT!”  
_”SHUT UP AND LISTEN!”_  
Armitage is silent, shaking and failing to hold back tears. Ben’s voice is forceful and fast.  
_”You don’t get to yell at me for helping you out. You needed a place to stay and I could help so I did. You need stuff for your house. I want to help but you won’t fucking let me because of some fucking stupid, misguided pride. But you’ll sure let your FRIEND help you ou—”_  
Armitage ends the call and doesn’t hear Ben’s last words of _”Call me when your ego takes a break.”_  
Tritt comes downstairs, takes one look at Armitage and hugs him. “Come back to mine tonight,” he suggests. “Finish moving in tomorrow.”  
“I’m staying here,” Armitage says, still snivelling. “I’m sick of having to rely on other people to look after me.”  
Tritt strokes his back and holds him tighter. “Fine. I’ll stay with you then. While you unpack your stuff, I’ll go get dinner.”

Tritt goes out. Armitage empties some of his boxes and hangs his clothes on the rail in his bedroom. The room echoes less with the futon assembled and the clothes rail filled and it feels a little more like... not home, but like somewhere he could imagine living. He flattens most of the boxes, saving a couple of sturdy ones to serve as low tables until he can buy proper furniture, and puts one down opened out flat on the bathroom floor as a bathmat although it occurs to him that he has no towels therefore can’t take a shower yet. He investigates the contents of the heavier boxes and finds his old textbooks, certificates, and a few knick-knacks he’d bought as gifts for Moden. The returned gifts go in the trash box beside the sliding doors that open onto a little courtyard. Next, Armitage texts Ben, _sorry I yelled at you,_ then leaves his phone off because he can’t stand thinking that there might never be a reply.

Tritt barges in with supermarket shopping bags. “I got the microwave curry meal-for-two deal,” he announces, “And there was a sale on so I got you a housewarming present.” He hands a large bag to Armitage. Inside is a double size bed-set decorated with tropical flowers, a towel bale in lime green, and a plastic cutlery rack containing four sets of knife, fork, spoon and teaspoon with cartoon character handles.  
“Thanks, I think,” Armitage says, smiling. He looks in the other bag. “Okay. You relax and find a movie while I rustle up some gourmet food.”  
Tritt holds out a bottle of sparkling wine. “Congratulations on moving in to your first home,” he says. “This was in the chilled section so we ought to drink it before it warms up.”  
Armitage frowns. “I don’t have any Champagne glasses.”  
Tritt points at the label. “This isn’t Champagne. It won’t be offended if we use the cups from your dinner service.”

Armitage rinses his new dinner service and leaves it to drip dry, then microwaves dinner while Tritt signs into Netflix on Armitage’s laptop. They squeeze together on the two-seater sofa to eat and browse the latest releases, pouring slightly chilled cava into thick-walled cups after Tritt takes the used plates and cutlery to the kitchen. It’s not possible to sit on the little two seater sofa without touching and Armitage gives up after a while, resting his arm on the back and letting Tritt relax against him while they watch a film on the laptop, propped up on one of the boxes that hasn’t been unpacked yet.  
“Thank you for the help today. And all week,” Armitage says partway through the film.  
“I’m sure you’d do the same for me,” Tritt replies.  
Armitage sips his wine and doesn’t say anything, but he squeezes Tritt around the shoulders and wonders how he ever forgot what easy company Tritt is, how comforting it would be to slip back into their old flirting. _I would do this for you now,_ he thinks. _Not sure I would have thought of it a week ago, or been any help at all if I had._  
“Have you called Ben back?” Tritt asks, patting Armitage on the knee.  
Armitage shakes his head. “I should go do that.”  
“You should go do that,” Tritt echoes, and sits forward to let Armitage get up.

Armitage fetches his phone, then disappears upstairs with Tritt watching every step until he is out of sight behind the closed bedroom door. He sits on his low-rise bed with his back against the wall and turns his phone back on, dropping it face down for a minute before looking, imagining all the messages that he doesn’t want to see. But when he looks there’s only one.  
_I’m sorry I yelled too babe. Want to talk but will wait for you to call me when you’re ready._  
While he’s contemplating what to say, another message arrives.  
_Guess I can’t compete with someone who’s actually there for you._  
He clicks ‘call’.

“Ben?”  
_”Babe! Can I still call you that?”_  
“Yes. Please. Look, I’m sorry—”  
_”—me too. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you.”_  
“I’m stressed as fuck, here. I am so out of my depth.”  
_”You’ll be okay. Your friend Tritt still there?”_  
“Yes. It’s not like you might think.” Armitage closes his eyes and bumps his head softy against the wall. “We had an affair once when Moden... ugh, who cares why. It lasted about a month. We’re friends now.”  
_”If you tell me you’re friends, then you’re friends, love.”_ There’s a laugh from Ben. _”It’s none of my business. But I might have gotten a little jealous for a moment.”_  
“Really?” Armitage smiles.  
_”Yeah.”_  
“I don’t want to have another affair with him. I want you.”  
_”That’s good!”_  
“I miss you.”  
_”I miss you too and I really want to see you. Still coming to that hotel I showed you?”_  
“I don’t think I can. I still need to buy things to make this house comfortable and I know you want to help out but I want to do it myself. I can’t afford a plane ticket.”  
_”I know, babe. What if it was all on Snoke’s account? I mean not just the hotel. What if you were technically employed as a freelance customer satisfaction assessor?”_  
“Bollocks, Ben. That’s not a real thing!”  
_”But it could be. And we’d get to see each other next weekend at a nice hotel.”_  
“I really can’t.”  
_”You really can. It’s not a sign of weakness to let your fiancé treat you to a romantic surprise, is it?”_  
“A romantic surprise is... is... I dunno. Buying me dinner in a fancy restaurant. You bought me a fucking house and now you want to fly me over to see you. It’s too much.”  
_”You’re paying me back for the house. I’ll even give you my bank details so you can set up a regular transfer if that would make you feel better. I get it, I really do, I think. Hey, do you like seafood? I know a nice place. What if I take you out to dinner on Friday night next week?”_  
Armitage keenly feels the absence of his fake engagement ring. He sucks his lower lip for a few seconds and smiles. “That would be lovely.”  
_”In Boston.”_  
“Ben—”  
_”Hear me out? Please? I really want to see you and what’s the difference between me buying a ticket for you to come and see me and me buying a ticket for me to go and see you?”_  
Despite recognising Ben’s logic, Armitage still hates being wrong. “You have a point. Okay. I will have dinner with you in Boston.” As soon as he has said it, he feels lighter than he has in days and he laughs.  
_”That’s great, sea-sprite! I’ll send you a ticket as soon as you let me know when you can travel Can you take Friday off?”_  
“I can finish at twelve if I put in extra hours Monday to Thursday.”  
_”Okay. I’ll book— No, you let me know what I can book.”_  
There’s a pause while Armitage thinks. “I could be at the airport by two so I could fly out around four.”  
_”I’ll check flight times. Can we Skype later?”_  
“Much as I would love to see your face, I’m exhausted and Tritt’s staying over.”  
_”Oh. Why?”_  
“Because I may have had a bit of a breakdown earlier and he’s a nice man and a good friend. Also we had wine so I can’t let him drive home.”  
_”You like nice men? Am I a nice man?”_  
Armitage almost melts at the sound of Ben’s laugh. “Definitely not. I count that as a point in your favour. I prefer scoundrels these days.”  
_”Ha! Okay. Text me when you go to bed?”_  
“I will.”  
_”Should I do it?”_  
“Do what?”  
_”Five... Four...”_  
After Armitage hangs up on _”Engage Hyperdrive!”_ he opens the front pocket of his case and feels around for his ring, then slips it back onto his finger.

Downstairs, Tritt is doing his best to wash their dinner dishes.  
“Leave it until I get some kitchen supplies tomorrow,” Armitage says. “I told Ben you’re staying over. He’s okay with it.”  
Tritt winks and waggles his eyebrows. “Did you tell him there’s only one bed?”  
“Do shut up, darling. Nothing will happen in it that I can’t tell him about.”  
Tritt sniggers. “Is that because he wouldn’t mind? Are you going to skype him whilst we— Ow!”  
Armitage pretends his hand does not sting at all after that slap to Tritt’s backside. “Do you want to sleep on the sofa?” he threatens. “The really, really small sofa?”  
Tritt laughs, wiggles his ass and shakes his head. “You know I’m only flirting because I know you won’t take it seriously. You know, after we ended our affair, I missed all this.”  
“You missed...?”  
“The cheesy flirting. Having someone to be stupid and giggly with.”  
Armitage smiles and laughs. “So did I. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to do or say anything that might be misinterpreted.”  
“Did Mo—”  
Armitage puts a finger on Tritt’s lips. “Shush! Don’t spoil the moment.”  
Tritt laughs and Armitage grins back. They hold eye contact for a few seconds, faces relaxing into easy smiles, then Tritt blinks. “I think I’ll call a cab.”  
Armitage looks away. “Sorry. I made you uncomfortable. I suppose we still can’t do this.”  
“Oh, it’s not that, sweetheart,” Tritt says, patting Armitage on the cheek. “Last four nights your snoring made my walls shake. If I don’t get a full night’s sleep I may actually put poison in your coffee in the morning. Not that you have any.”  
“What?” Armitage frowns. “Poison?”  
“No,” Tritt shrugs. “Coffee.”

The cab arrives and Tritt leaves after a quick hug. Armitage takes his brightly coloured new bed-set upstairs and makes up his bed. Then he showers, puts on clean shorts and the shirt that no longer really smells of Ben, lounges in bed and launches Skype.  
Ben looks delighted. “Starfish! I thought I wouldn’t see you tonight.”  
Armitage beams a grin at him. “Tritt went home after all. He called a cab.”  
“Can you give me a tour of your new house?”  
Armitage laughs, stands up and switches cameras. “Sure. Won’t take long. This my bedroom.” He does a slow three-sixty then walks Ben downstairs, through the living area and kitchen, then back upstairs to bed. “There. My house.”  
He switches to front camera again and Ben has a smile ready. “It’s gonna be so great, love.”  
Armitage narrows his eyes. “Bullshit. You hate it.”  
“I don’t!” Ben protests. He sighs and moves closer to the camera. All Armitage can see of him is from eyebrows to lips and he wants to kiss everything. Ben smiles. “If I was there to go shopping with you for things for your new place, would you let me?”  
“No, love.” Armitage sighs. “I know you mean well, but I want to live somewhere that feels like it’s mine.”  
Ben nods and moves back. “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?”  
“Maybe not tonight. I just want to sleep.”  
“Not even the one about the hot redhead who just moved into a new place and the tall, sexy plumber who calls round to mend the shower?”  
“Mmm,” Armitage smiles. “This plumber, does he have thick, dark, wavy hair?”  
“Perfect for grabbing and pulling.”  
“Broad shoulders?”  
“Definitely, and he has an eight-pack if you look closely when he accidentally soaks his shirt and has to strip off.”  
“And will he suggest to the redhead that they test the shower together, just to make sure his plumbing is in perfect working order?”  
“You bet he will.”  
“I like the sound of that.”  
“All right!” Ben settles back further. “Ready to get comfortable?”  
Armitage doesn’t reply.  
“Armitage?”  
There’s a soft snort and Armitage turns onto his side and curls up. Ben smiles and closes the call.


	7. Afloat

“Oh my actual god.”  
Armitage walks alongside the railing that separates newly-arrived passengers from the people waiting to meet them until he reaches the gap that will allow him to march up to Ben and pull the iPad emblazoned with animated text that flashes _”Ivan Aardcock”_ out of his hands and turn it off.  
“Fucking unbelievable,” Armitage mutters.  
“I know, right?” Ben grins. “And that’s just from thinking about you.”  
And then Ben’s arms are around him and everything is fine again.  
“Rough flight?” Ben asks. Armitage shrugs but doesn’t move out of his embrace.  
“There was somebody sitting beside me who wanted to _converse,_ ” he says. Ben laughs and _ooh-_ s in sympathy.  
“Come on. Let’s get a cab, check in to the hotel and get dinner.”

Ben gives the hotel name and address to the driver, who nods and sets off. Armitage sags against Ben in the back seat.  
“So this place we’re staying,” Armitage says. “Does it have a restaurant? Been a busy week, getting everything done so I could take the afternoon off. I’m pretty tired.”  
“Sure,” Ben replies. “Figured you’d be beat. I booked the hotel restaurant for a quiet dinner tonight and we can choose a fancy seafood place for tomorrow.”  
Before too long, the car pulls up outside a squat, square building with _The Harbormaster’s House_ painted in red, white and blue above the door. They get out, Ben pays for the cab and Armitage takes his luggage up to the door and waits. They go in together and walk right past reception. Ben waves a keycard. “I think you’ll like the room. Not as fancy as the last place we shared, but pretty nice.”

Armitage laughs at the room. It has a large bed, a small desk and chair, and a seating area with two tub chairs, a coffee table, a TV, a coffee maker and a minibar. The bathroom only has a small bath with a shower over it, but it is clean and the toiletries smell good. However, it is the decor that amuses Armitage. “This is,” he announces after studying every flag-themed print, yellow, reprinted map and sepia presidential mugshot on the wall, “the most _American_ place I have ever stayed.” He smiles as Ben pretends to polish the beak of the carved eagle headboard on the bed and plumps up the stars and stripes cushions.  
“Just in case you wake up confused about which part of the world you are in,” Ben says with a smirk. “Because I might make you feel so good you forget everything else.”  
“I am willing to risk temporary amnesia,” Armitage says with a smirk, walking round the bed to Ben and pulling him into a kiss. Ben responds instantly, arms around Armitage’s shoulders then hands in his hair, lips and tongue warm and soft and insistent. Armitage can’t imagine why he was ever upset with Ben.

After a few pleasant minutes, Ben pulls back and rests his forehead against Armitage’s. He swivels their heads to look at the red numerals of the hotel room alarm clock. “Mmm. Dinner in five minutes.”  
“Do they do room service?” Armitage asks with a giggle. “I want to get you out of your clothes as soon as possible.”  
“Afraid not,” Ben replies with a sigh. “Well, only snacks.”  
“You’re a snack,” Armitage says. Ben laughs and pushes him off.  
“You’re ridiculous.” He smiles and cups Armitage’s cheek. “And I love you for it.”  
Armitage yawns and turns away. “Do I need to change? I’m crumpled from the journey.”  
“No,” Ben takes his hand. “Let’s go sample the catch of the day then come back up here and relax.”

Although it is not all that late, the restaurant is not all that full. The host greets them with a smile and offers a choice of seating areas. Ben chooses a booth not too near the speakers that spill generic jazz-like background music, and not too near the doors. Armitage slides into the seat opposite and reads the menu, casually stretching his legs out so that he can trap one of Ben’s legs between his own. He sees with a smile that Ben is still wearing the ring that matches his. Their server brings water and pours it then smiles at then both.  
“Have you decided on drinks or would you like a few more minutes?”  
“Oh,” Ben smiles back. “I think I will ask Armitage to choose the food and wine.”  
“Of course, sir.” She smiles at Armitage. “Would you like a few minutes?”  
As soon as Armitage starts reading the wine list in earnest, she turns back to Ben and lowers her voice, almost mouthing the words. _“Have you decided on the other thing?”_  
Armitage frowns. Ben wears a fixed grin. “Yes,” Ben says. “Thank you.”  
The server shoots them both a happy little smile and walks away with Armitage’s order of two large glasses of pinot grigio in her head.  
“What was that about?” Armitage asks Ben.  
Ben shrugs. “Oh, nothing. I’ve heard this place does great fish. What do you think we should have?”  
Armitage narrows his eyes at Ben. “You’re up to something. I can sense it.” Their server returns with a chilled bottle of white wine. Armitage smiles at her. “Battered pollack with frites and minted pea puree, please.”

They eat and chat and drink and laugh. Before long, Armitage feels like he and Ben have never been apart and the past two weeks—with the motel and Tritt and the house move and the arguments—are receding to become like the unsettled feeling left over from the fading memory of a bad dream. Their main course dishes are cleared and Ben looks at the dessert menu. Armitage slides his foot up Ben’s bouncing calf.  
“Are you okay?” he asks. “I’ve not seen you this tense since Phasma called you out on your ID.”  
“Oh? Well,” Ben smiles, Ben gives a nervous laugh and looks around. He fiddles with a hand in his jacket pocket. Finally, Ben stands up and gets down on one knee in front of Armitage.  
Armitage stares. He raises his eyebrows and asks, “Really? Again?”  
Ben’s face falls. Armitage looks past Ben and sees their server, escorted by someone in a smart black suit with a gold name badge, walking over with a big smile, a camera and a bottle in an ice-bucket. Heat creeps up his neck and he knows he’s blushing. The restaurant manager and their server wait a couple of tables away.

Armitage looks at Ben again and smiles. “Oh my GO-O-OD!” he crows, hands flying to his face. “What a surprise! Yes, my darling. Of course I’ll marry you!”  
Ben laughs in relief. He takes Armitage’s hand, flips open a small, red, cube shaped box with the other and eases out a polished silvery band inset with a row of green gemstones. He slips the ring onto Armitage’s finger, swapping it with the cheap band from the museum store. There are congratulations and photographs and there is real Champagne. Desserts arrive without being ordered. Ben and Armitage eat and drink until Ben sits forward and murmurs, “I think we should go back up to our room now. Don’t you?”  
Armitage giggles. “What, no upgrade?”  
“Sweetheart, I already booked us the best room in the hotel,” Ben says with a smile. “Let’s go make it untidy.”

Armitage and Ben walk out of the restaurant to a smattering of applause and wait for the elevator. Time stretches as they watch the floor indicator number drop to the lobby, and they almost collide with a group of three older people all linking arms and tutting at having to make way. As soon as the doors close, Armitage has his hands in Ben’s hair and his lips on the side of Ben’s throat, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin under his ear then drawing his teeth across the red mark he’s made. At a quiet whine of encouragement, Armitage takes Ben’s earlobe between his teeth and flicks it with his tongue, then pulls Ben’s head down with a fistful of hair to lick around the shell of his hear. Armitage laughs and feels the raised bumps of Ben’s skin.  
“I forgot how much you like that,” he says, pressing his hips forward into Ben’s and grinding against him. Ben catches his breath and rolls his eyes.  
“Starfish, if this elevator was any slower I would ride you right here.”  
That’s the moment the elevator stops and the doors open. Someone calls in, “Hi, you going down?”  
Ben smirks and winks. “Not yet. Let me get my fiancé up to our room first.”  
The door closes on a shriek of shocked laughter and the elevator trundles upwards once more.

In the privacy of their room, Armitage won’t let Ben move from the tiny entrance area unless he first removes whichever item of clothing Armitage is holding on to. So by the time Ben makes it to the bathroom, he is utterly nude and they are both cackling with laughter. Armitage drapes himself on the bed and waits for Ben to emerge.  
“You have clothes on,” Ben says.  
“You, I see, do not,” observes Armitage. “Have you never wondered what it wold be like to fuck, or be fucked by, someone wearing clothes?”  
“I have,” Ben says with a grin. “But I want to see you. I have not seen you nude for... oh... _years.”_  
“Rubbish!” Armitage protests. “You saw my entire body via webcam less than thirty hours ago. You wanted to watch me shower.”  
“Not the same,” Ben says. “Take all that off. For me.”  
Armitage grins and gets up. “I might need some music, sweetheart.”

Ben scrambles for his clothing, still on the floor, and finds his phone. He plugs it in and taps a few times, and music plays, hissing and tinny through the phone speaker. Armitage laughs when he recognises the bass line. “Angel?”  
“You... are my angel,” Ben croons, grin plastered on his face. “Come from way above... to bring me love...”  
Armitage removes his clothing slowly. He stays out of reach of Ben, pushing him with one finger to fall into one of the tub chairs, whilst miming along. “Her eyes... she’s from the dark side... neutralise... every man in sight...”  
Ben joins in with a quiet, _”love you love you love you love you...”_  
Long before the end of the track, Armitage is nude too. Ben still stares from his chair.  
“What do you want now, love?” Armitage asks. “I’m all yours.”  
Ben swallows and licks his lips. “Um,” he says. “Could we...”  
“Yes, darling.” Armitage steps closer.  
“Just, like, go to bed?”  
The spell is broken. Armitage bursts out laughing and collapses onto the side of the bed.  
“Oh thank fuck,” Armitage says. “I’m exhausted. Can we shower first? I feel disgusting.”  
Ben laughs and holds out his hands. Armitage hauls him to his feet and leads him into the bathroom. There is no room in the over-bath shower for more than giggly touching with soap-lathered hands but once they are in the large, comfortable bed, Armitage murmurs, _”How about you let me do all the work, love,”_ as he spoons Ben from behind. Ben hums and nods, so Armitage reaches for the lube, slicks his hand, his cock and Ben’s upper, inner thighs. He makes a few, slow thrusts of his cock between Ben’s thighs then reaches around him to clasp his cock too and stroke in time with his own lazy thrusts. After a minute, Ben tenses his legs, tightening the pressure on Armitage’s cock and mutters, _”mmm, faster!”_  
Ben comes with a quiet gasp. Armitage takes a little longer. They use the edge of the sheet to clean up then roll over to the other side. Armitage falls asleep almost right away with Ben curled around his back and the warm feeling that everything is right with the universe.

Armitage wakes with morning sunlight slanting through a gap in the curtain and he can hear traffic from the street below. Ben is watching him from above, propped up on one elbow, head on hand, warmth and weight of Ben’s body and legs partly on top of him. Armitage smiles and Ben dips down for a kiss.  
“Good morning, sea-sprite,” Ben says. Armitage yawns and laughs.  
“Good morning. Is there coffee?”  
“There is,” Ben says and scoots down the bed and gets up. Armitage watches as Ben operates the little one-cup coffee maker.  
“You know, you even had me going last night,” Armitage says. “Have you been practising?”  
“Huh?” Ben looks over as the machine hisses and spits.  
“At the restaurant. I was actually convinced, just for a moment.”  
“What do you mean?” Ben asks, setting the first cup of coffee on the glass-topped bedside cabinet next to Armitage.  
“After the initial surprise, even I thought you were genuinely asking me to marry you. Took me a moment to figure it out. The Champagne was nice, though.” Armitage admires the ring on his finger, the way the green gemstones catch the light and the smooth shine of the silvery metal setting. It feels surprisingly heavy for its size, he thinks. Ben is standing perfectly still, cup of cold water tilting dangerously close to spilling in one hand and coffee pod in the other. It hits Armitage as he slips the ring off and holds it in his palm, studying the lustre of the metal and the facets of the stones.  
“Fuck me, Ben,” he says. “Is this emerald set in platinum?”  
Ben jerks back into the moment and water slops from the cup. He puts it down. “Did... did you get my email? With the tickets?”  
Armitage frowns at Ben’s horrified expression. “If course I did,” he says. “I got the tickets, didn’t I?”  
“Did you read the whole email?” Ben’s face shifts subtly and his tone breathes hurt. “All of it, right to the end?”  
Armitage’s frown deepens. He reaches for his phone and loads the email. There, at the very end, under the attached tickets is a personal message from Ben.

_You said over Skype that we’re wearing matching rings but we’re not actually planning to get married. I want to change that. Use these tickets and I will ask you for real._

Armitage is dumbfounded. He stares at it and shakes his head.  
“I didn’t... Ben...” he says, searching for something to say. “I thought we were just having a laugh and trying to get free stuff,” he says. “I didn’t think... Ah shit.” He looks at the expensive engagement ring in his palm. “You were serious.”  
“It doesn’t matter,” Ben says, voice tight and clipped.  
“I need time to think,” Armitage replies quietly. He holds out the ring. “Playing along is fun and... kind of nice. But for real? I don’t know.”  
Ben shakes his head. “You can either wear it or give it back when you’ve made up your mind.”  
Armitage is still holding the ring out. Ben sighs, takes it, puts it back in its little red box and goes into the bathroom. A minute later, the shower starts.

Armitage grabs his phone.  
_He proposed for real last night._  
Tritt’s reply is almost instant.  
_...Can I be your bridesmaid?_  
_I thought he was bluffing. Gave the ring back this morning._  
Armitage stares at the screen until it goes dark. As soon as he puts his phone down, it lights up again.  
_...Shit. Are you ok? Is he ok?_  
_I’m ok he’s in the shower._  
_...So what happens when you turn someone down?_  
_I don’t know. Do we break up?_  
_...I have literally nothing to tell you. Sorry._  
_I’m going out._

Armitage drops his phone again and dresses quickly. The shower is still hissing and drumming against the bathtub and when Armitage carefully tries the door, he finds it locked. He sighs, rubs his face and leaves the room, then texts Ben from the elevator to say he’s going for a walk. Armitage doesn’t know this city at all so he wanders aimlessly, heading uphill away from the harbour until he finds a park. He sits on a bench looking over a small lake, watching the wind rustle the willows that dip their fingers into the murky water. And he thinks.

_What do I want? Ben. I want Ben but do I want to be married? I barely know him but I feel like I barely know him really well. Shit, I’m not making sense even to myself. Okay. I want to go back in time and read that stupid email properly. I want him not to have asked. I want it to have been just another free champagne and an upgrade scam. Do I want that? How can I make this right. Why can’t I have a fucking time machine already. I really don’t want to break up. I really don’t want to get married to someone who..._

He bites his lip and blinks furiously.

_Ben isn’t Moden. Ben is nothing like Moden._

He takes his phone out and texts Ben.  
_Are you ok?_  
He waits a full minute and sends another text.  
_I love you._  
There’s speech bubble with flashing dots in it for what feels like an age. Eventually a reply appears.  
_I’m fine._  
As he watches, another two arrive in quick succession.  
_Come back._  
_wait I’ll come to you tell me where you are._  
Armitage snaps a picture of the lake and sends it. There’s a pedal-boat shaped like a swan moored to a tiny island in the middle. Ben replies that he’s on his way.

He’s smiling, Armitage notices with relief. Ben walks over and sits beside him, arm across the back of the seat behind Armitage’s shoulders. “What do you want to do today?” Ben asks.  
“I don’t know,” Armitage replies, watching the ducks glide across the pond towards a kid with a handful of bread.  
“Tell me what you want, Armitage,” Ben says quietly, hand straying from the back of the bench onto Armitage’s shoulder. Armitage leans towards Ben a little.  
“Coffee,” he says with a decisive nod. “I want coffee.”  
Ben laughs softly. “Fine. Let’s get coffee.”

Ben leads Armitage through the park and up a cobbled street lined with red brick buildings to a cheerful looking café with bright yellow woodwork and enormous plate glass windows. Inside, they order coffee and a pancake stack to share. Armitage chooses a table by the window so that he can watch people passing by on the street outside. They sip too-hot coffee and look out of the window. Armitage catches sight of Ben’s reflection in the glass. He’s frowning slightly. Armitage reaches across the table and takes Ben’s hand, just a touch at first, but Ben turns his hand to lace their fingers together and smiles.  
“What do you want to do today?” Ben asks. “I had plans but...” He shrugs.  
“I don’t know. I’ve never been here before.”  
Their food arrives. Armitage tucks in while Ben taps at his phone for a few minutes. Ben bites his lip and frowns at Armitage. “Will you get upset if I decide for us both?” he asks. Armitage shakes his head. Ben smiles and thumbs his phone one more time. “Eat up, then,” he says. “We have a busy day.”

Ben tells Armitage he’s booked a tourist package with a trolley bus tour, science museum and aquarium entry, and two cruises: whale-watching and dinner harbour cruise. Armitage laughs around his last mouthful of pancake, hand over his mouth. “I need to go back to the room to change,” he says. “I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes.”  
“No you’re good,” Ben replies with a quick squeeze of his hand. “If you need anything else you can get it while we’re out.”

The trolley bus tour is slow but interesting as their tour guide talks them though some of the main tourist attractions. By the time they get off at the aquarium, Armitage is wearing a science museum teeshirt and a Red Sox jacket. They wander hand in hand through the aquarium, stopping to watch a diver swim with the sharks and rays, then emerge blinking into afternoon sunlight to walk the short distance to the jetty where the whale-watching cruise begins. Armitage chooses seats at the back where they can see the harbour recede as the boat chugs away from the jetty, the cool scent of brine mingling with the reek of hot diesel fumes. There’s a moment as they pass some rougher swell where the boat pitches and Armitage clings to Ben, staring at his feet in the hope that his stomach will not let him down.  
“Come with me,” Ben says, laughing. He takes Armitage by the hand and leads him to a space by the railing. “Watch the horizon.”  
“Will that make me feel better?” Armitage asks.  
“No,” Ben replies. “But if you puke at least it’ll be over the side.”

The sea and the sky are every shade of blue from palest aquamarine to steel grey, and in the distance the sky and the ocean seem to merge in a haze. From where they stand, Armitage gripping the railing as if his life depended on it and Ben holding on with his hands outside Armitage’s, like a protective cage around him, the air is fresh and the sunlight sparkles the water. The motion of the boat has settled, Armitage thinks, or perhaps he has found his sea-legs. The engine noise has quieted, he realises, listening instead to the cries of the gulls and the slap-slap-slap of little waves against the hull. He stares at the shifting patterns of light and shade in the water, then dares to release one hand from the railing so that he can tap Ben’s arm and point.

“Look!”

Something grey and white breaches the surface, rolls and submerges again. More people join them, staring and pointing and _ooh_ -ing and _aah_ -ing as a dark shape passes the boat again, closer, then rolls as if to wave a barnacle-crusted flipper at them.  
“I’d take a video but I’m scared I’d drop my phone in the Atlantic,” Armitage says. Ben holds him close from behind. The whale comes even nearer and another chorus of _ooh_ -ing and _aah_ -ing comes from the other side of the boat as the tour guide embarks on a lecture about humpback whales and other marine mammals they might get to see today. After an hour that feels like ten minutes, Armitage sighs in disappointment when the tour guide announces that they are turning back. It’s peaceful despite the excited ripple of noise that accompanies every sighting and the boat engine roars back into life, slowly taking them in a wide arc. Armitage suppresses the desire to wave goodbye to the whales they have been watching. Instead he leans back against Ben and murmurs, “thank you.” Ben squeezes him once and kisses his ear.

By the time they reach the harbour the sun is setting, casting an orange and red glow over the skyline. Armitage is glad to be back on solid ground although it takes him a few minutes of jelly-legs to readjust to walking on a surface that doesn’t shift beneath him. “I don’t know if I can do the dinner cruise,” he says. “Food and sailing. Potentially disastrous combination.”  
Ben laughs. “It’s just around the harbour. It’ll be calm. But we don’t have to do it if you’d rather not. There are plenty of other places we could eat.”  
Armitage catches Ben’s slight tightening of his lips in profile. “If it’s calm I should be okay,” he says. “Although _evening dinner cruise_ sounds so much more romantic than _vomiting boyfriend.”_  
Ben laughs. “Let’s not take the risk. If you’re sick it’ll be three hours of misery.”  
“I’m really sorry,” Armitage says. But the glare of disappointment and lecture about how much the wasted tickets cost that he’s expecting doesn’t come. Ben just smiles and takes his hand as they walk away.

Instead, they find a busy seafood restaurant and hold hands across the table. Ben asks Armitage to order for them both again and Armitage suggests lobster, so they share butterflied lobster tails with lemon, garlic butter and a side order of fries. Armitage says he thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever put in his mouth and Ben pretends to be offended until they both snigger. Armitage feels warm inside as he watches Ben eat and listens to him talk about nothing important. Ben notices Armitage’s scrutiny and stops.  
“Uh, have I got food stuck on my face or something?”  
“No,” Armitage replies with a smile and a shrug. “I was just thinking.”  
“Oh?” Ben smiles. “About me?”  
Armitage laughs. “Well, you are sitting, like, _right there_ so I can hardly ignore you but—”  
Ben clutches a hand to his chest. “If sarcasm be the food of love...”  
“Actually I was thinking what if we could go back in time,” Armitage says.  
“How far back?” Ben asks. “Are we talking slight changes to recent events or do you actually want to kill Hitler or see dinosaurs?”  
“Well, all of that would be cool, but mainly just recent events.” Armitage smiles. “Like this morning.”  
Ben immediately sits forward, focusing entirely on Armitage. Armitage resists the fight-or-flight instinct to move back. His stomach is churning and he’s desperately glad they skipped the cruise.  
“I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel,” he says. “What I want. Why I... Whatever. All that sort of shit.” Armitage takes Ben’s hand across the table. “Like, how is it that I _know_ that we don’t really know each other well enough, but I _feel_ like I’ve known you forever? And why am I so worried about making a commitment? I think... I came to the conclusion that...” Armitage looks away. “The only person I knew who wanted to be with me long term was Moden. Maybe I was afraid that you would turn out to be just like him.” Armitage looks back into Ben’s eyes. “But that’s not fair because you’re nothing like him at all.”  
Armitage almost wishes he’d be angry, but Ben’s face stays in his habitual slight frown.  
“I suppose I have no right to ask this, but...” Armitage closes his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them again, his mind is made up. “Ben Solo, will you marry me?”


	8. Breaks

The 1850

“Oh fuck, no.” Armitage breathes out the curse when he sees Ben holding a sign that reads _I Want Ewan Mycock._ Head down, he overshoots the end of the barriers and wheels left around arrivals, looking for the nearest exit. But there is no escape.  
“Babe!” Ben’s voice booms out, and soon Armitage is engulfed in a warm solid hug, followed by a kiss that could almost get them thrown out of the building on grounds of public indecency.  
“I missed you, starfish,” Ben says. Armitage laughs and shakes his head.  
“I missed you too.” Ben moves in for another kiss but Armitage resists slightly. “Save some of that for when we get to the hotel?”  
“You scared I’ll run out?” Ben kisses Armitage once gently. “Never.”  
They hold hands loosely in the taxi and Ben slips the ring from Armitage’s finger. Armitage pouts in protest but Ben just shrugs. “You’ll get it back later.”

The hotel is fancy enough that its name is simply its street number and, coincidentally (the receptionist boasts) the year the building was opened. They spend a pleasant hour testing the shower enclosure, which is a bit too small for two unless one of them leans on the wall. Armitage shuts off the spray, liberally lathers the warm skin at the top of Ben’s inner thighs, and fucks between them with shallow rapid thrusts while he tries to stroke Ben’s cock too. He can’t keep the rhythm going. Ben pulls Armitage’s hand away and lets his shoulders rest against the cool tiles until Armitage comes, then Ben starts the water running to clean up. Armitage sighs, smiles and pulls Ben nude and damp into the bedroom and pushes him onto the bed. He climbs up and straddles him.  
“What would you like me to do for you?” Armitage asks, running loose fingers up and down Ben’s half-hard cock.  
Ben looks at the time. “That’s something I will be thinking about over dinner,” he says. “For now, anything that takes under seven minutes.”  
Armitage smiles and reaches for the lube. Five minutes later, Ben is coming hard with one of Armitage’s fingers rubbing with perfect accuracy in his entrance and Armitage’s hot mouth on his cock.

Ben is still wearing a grin when they are led to their table for dinner. The food is expensive with small portions carefully presented on large plates, and Armitage realises as he surveys the room that everyone else is better dressed than him. He leans forward over his swirl of linguini with truffle oil and Ben smiles as he leans in to meet him. “Maybe we should do it tomorrow,” he murmurs. “I’ll get a better outfit. Look the part.”  
“What? No.” Ben lets his eyes wander slowly over what he can see of Armitage: the slightly tousled hair, the sharp green eyes, the deep vee of pale skin showing where his shirt is open to the third button. “You’re beautiful.”  
Armitage feels his face warm at the compliment and he sits back smiling. Ben raises one eyebrow. Armitage raises both of his as Ben slips out of his seat, takes Armitage’s hand and drops to one knee.  
“Armitage?” Ben speaks a little too loud and clears his throat as if he’s nervous. Armitage is fixed so completely on Ben’s face that even if the restaurant had not stilled he would hear nothing other than Ben’s words and his own thumping heartbeat.  
“Armitage, I know this is sudden,” Ben says. Armitage bites his lower lip to stop from giggling. “But I feel as if we know each other’s souls. We belong together.” Armitage leans slightly forward. Ben fakes a twitchy smile. “Would you do me the honour of being my partner forever? My husband?”  
The room holds its breath while Armitage loos at Ben with wide-eyed wonder. After counting to three, Armitage breathes out, “Yes.” Then as noise descends once more, “Yes of course!”

Armitage looks on as Ben slips his emerald band back onto his finger where it belongs. A ripple of applause accompanies the pop and fizz of the Champagne the front of house manager is pouring into two glasses. When the congratulations are over and their server has left them with small servings of complimentary desserts, Ben looks at the wine label and scoffs. “Perhaps we should have dressed up more. This is their cheapest. My boss would also approve of the small servings. I’m going to want another meal before bed.”  
Armitage leers over a mouthful of spun sugar and passionfruit confection. “I want to go upstairs and feast on you.”

 

The Swiss Lodge

Ben’s glare beats the pale Sun. “What do you mean by, _I’ve done this before,_ exactly?”  
Armitage laughs, sticks his poles in the snow and holds out his hands to help haul Ben back onto his skis. “I used to go skiing with Moden every year. Never anywhere as fancy as this, though.”  
Ben dusts the snow off his padded trousers, grimacing at the _shuff-shuff_ his gloves make on the fabric. “I hate all of this,” he says. “Why can’t I just be good at it already? It looks easy enough.”  
Armitage grins as a group of well-insulated children snowplough past them. “Well then. Let’s try that parallel turn again. Once you get it right three times in a row I’ll take you down a blue run.”  
“I want a reward for doing it,” Ben says.  
“All right,” Armitage says with a smile like the sparkle of fresh snow. “If you manage three turns in a row without falling over, and you get down the blue run without screaming at me that you are too young to die, I will massage your aching quads this evening. And anything else you’d like massaged.”  
“Right,” Ben says through gritted teeth. “Watch this.”

It takes Ben another hour to manage something resembling a turn without falling, but once he’s got it his confidence skyrockets and he wants to head straight for the ski lift up to the top of the blue run. Armitage insists on having lunch first and they stand outside _The Sandwich Chalet_ hurriedly eating ham and Emmental baguettes and slurping tea. Ben falls once or twice on their first careful descent of the blue run when his confidence outstrips his skill, but Armitage is impressed nonetheless and says so. Ben does not fall on their second or their third run, and Armitage promises another lesson and a red run the next day. By the time they get back to their hotel room after handing over their hired boots and skis, Ben has jelly legs and can barely walk in a straight line.  
“Starfish?” he says, collapsing onto the bed. “I think if I got down on one knee I might not be able to get up again.”  
“That’s all right,” Armitage replies, helping Ben out of his thermal socks and ski pants then hefting his legs onto the bed properly by the ankles. “You can stay right where you are.” He strokes and lightly squeezes Ben’s thighs while Ben whimpers. “On second thoughts, if we don’t go have dinner soon your legs might seize up and we’ll have to order room service.”  
“Would that be so bad?” Ben asks.  
“We need to sample the restaurant service, love, and last night we were too busy getting reacquainted to think about food.” Armitage slaps Ben’s bare skin once. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and go eat. We are not spending the thirty-first of December with room service and crappy cable TV.”

Ben complies after a few more complaints and one attempt at puppy-dog eyes. While Ben is in the shower, Armitage dresses in his best smart-casual outfit, leaving his teal shirt open to the third button the way he knows Ben likes, and tucking it into his trousers at the front to show off the belt that draws Ben’s attention further south. He hears the water shut off and looks in Ben’s side of the wardrobe. He chooses an outfit from the small range of clothes Ben has packed and lays it out, then immediately worries that he should not have done it in case Ben thinks he’s being controlling. Armitage is hanging up Ben’s deep, wine-red shirt as Ben emerges.  
“Oh yes, hand me that one,” Ben says, rubbing his damp hair with a white towel then dropping it and finger-combing his hair. Armitage watches as Ben puts on a fresh black teeshirt then pulls the shirt on, leaving it loose, then picks up the soft, faded grey-black jeans Armitage had left on the bed and pulls them on too. Armitage smiles.  
“You look stunning,” he says. “Good enough to eat.”  
Ben laughs. “Maybe later, if I’m lucky,” he replies, and Armitage sniggers.

The hotel restaurant is busy but there is a table waiting for them. Ben asks Armitage to order and soon they are tucking into dishes designed to feed people who have spent the day on the slopes rather than people looking for the finest of dining. As they scrape the last morsels of veal casserole and rosti from their plates, Armitage catches their server’s eye and smiles. They nod back. Armitage leans forward and tells Ben to sit still, then stands up, steps to the side and sinks to one knee.  
“Ben, darling, you light up my life. Will you marry me?”  
Ben raises his eyebrows. Armitage holds out a small velvet box and opens it.  
“Say yes and make me the happiest man alive.”  
Ben seems genuinely speechless. He holds out his hand. Armitage takes out the platinum and ruby ring that is a counterpoint to his own emerald one and slips it onto Ben’s finger. It sticks a little over his knuckle but sits prettily enough on Ben’s hand. Ben laughs and nods, and champagne flows.  
Once the fuss has died down, Ben pulls Armitage close and kisses him. “Thank you,” he says. “It’s beautiful. I had no idea!”  
“Now we’re even,” Armitage says. “I wear mine to show I’m yours. You can wear yours to show you’re mine.”  
“I will,” Ben says. “So it’s ten o’clock now. Do you want to celebrate New Year’s Eve at the bar where the party is or—”  
“Take you upstairs for a full body massage and a slow fuck?”  
“Yeah,” Ben says already on his feet and holding his hand out to Armitage. “I like your idea better.”

 

The Grand Hotel

Armitage holds up a sign as soon as he sees the first passengers walk through arrivals. Ben spots him almost right away and vaults the chrome barrier to reach him faster. When Ben releases Armitage from his tight hug, he looks at the iPad in Armitage’s hand.  
“Master Bates,” he says, laughing. “Nice.”  
“Let’s get out of here,” Armitage says. “My flight landed an hour ago and I am starving.”  
They walk hand in hand out of the airport, trailing their cabin-sized cases like outriggers and annoying people trying to pass. The taxi line is short and soon Ben is handing over cash while Armitage looks up at the facade of the hotel in grey January drizzle.  
“It does not look _grand_ at all,” he says, shaking his head.  
Ben smiles. “It’s a new acquisition. Snoke said it was grand in the eighties.”  
Armitage huffs. “I take it you mean the eighteen eighties. It better have plumbing.”  
“You’re cranky,” Ben says with a laugh, easing his ruby and platinum band from his finger. “Let’s check in and get dinner. Remember to take your ring off.”

The room they are directed to by the humourless receptionist is small and the ceiling is yellowed. The armchair smells of stale cigarettes and the bed linen is worn, although it is clean. The bathroom has mould in the corners and rust stains on the porcelain. Armitage shudders.  
“Do we have to stay here?” He asks.  
Ben nods. “Sorry, babe, we have to spend two nights so I can write up a full set of recommendations for improvements.”  
“Can’t you just write ‘I recommend arson and an insurance claim’ and have done with it?” Armitage asks. “There must be somewhere else we can stay.”  
Ben laughs and strokes Armitage’s hair. “Let’s book our special dinner for tomorrow then go out to eat. I don’t want to hang around here.”  
Ben phones reception but gives up the third time he gets their voicemail. Instead, he books a table in person while Armitage waits outside. Armitage watches Ben approach, shaking his head.  
“I said I was planning to propose to my boyfriend and was there anything special they could do and the guy on reception gave me a dead-eyed stare and told me I needed Jesus.”  
“Are we safe here?” Armitage asks quietly, looking around.  
“Yeah,” Ben says. “Of course. He’s just one asshole.”  
But on the short walk to the nearest diner, without discussing it at all, they do not hold hands.

At least the beer-and-burgers diner is friendly and Armitage relaxes. The burgers and fries are cooked just right and their server refills their pitcher for free when he finds out where they are staying, then reassures them that the rest of the town won’t look twice at two men on a date.  
“Maybe we should come back here for dinner tomorrow night,” Armitage suggests.  
Ben laughs and shakes his head. “Sorry, starfish. You’re a freelance customer satisfaction assessor now so you have to assess your satisfaction of the full hotel plus dining experience.”  
“Do I have to write a report?” Armitage asks, aghast.  
“Absolutely...” Ben says, pulling cash out for their meal and a tip, weighing it down with his glass while Armitage groans and rolls his eyes, “...not. Come on.” He leans closer to Armitage and murmurs, “I want to get you into bed. Even that bed will do.”  
“Agreed,” Armitage murmurs back. “I’ve survived worse.”

They wander back to the hotel hand in hand, kiss in the elevator and stumble into their dingy room already grappling with each other’s clothing. Armitage pulls Ben into the shower room and opens the taps. The pipes gurgle and spit, and eventually a thin trickle of tea-coloured water dribbles from the spray and splashes onto the stained porcelain. Armitage stiffens and shakes his head.  
“Fucking hell. I just want a shower and bed.”  
“I’ll get us moved into a better room,” Ben says, going back into the bedroom and lifting the phone from the bedside cabinet. Armitage fishes his mobile from the pocket of his discarded trousers and uses his data package to search for another place to stay because the hotel wifi fails to connect to the internet. After a couple of minutes, Ben throws the receiver back onto its cradle and curses. He pulls on his trousers on and tucks in his shirt, pushes bare feet into his shoes. “I’ll go do it in person.”  
Armitage glares at his screen and complains to the empty room, “What do you mean there’s no room availability within five miles?”

Ben returns fifteen minutes later, silently fuming. “No room upgrade?” Armitage asks, already knowing the answer.  
“No.” Ben throws himself on his back on the bed. “No shower, no nice room and certainly no service-with-a-smile.”  
“Well then,” Armitage says with a sigh. “I suppose we should get some sleep. This weekend sucks.”  
“I’m not writing off this weekend yet, starfish,” Ben says. “I’ve not seen you for three weeks. I’m sorry the room is so bad, but maybe we can salvage something.”  
“Like what?” Armitage replies a little sourly.  
Ben grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Let’s get naked and find out.”

When he’s on his back with Ben thrusting his enormous cock between thighs slicked with lube, and Ben’s soft, lower belly giving him just enough pressure and friction to keep his groin pleasantly tingling, Armitage gives Ben a sloppy, breathy, open-mouthed kiss and decides that he’s had far worse nights than this. 

In the morning, when the banging and shouting starts from the garbage collection in the yard below, Ben rolls over and declares, “I’ve had enough. We’re finding somewhere else and I am going to recommend a fate worse than arson for this dump. I am going to bring Phasma here to oversee renovations and rebranding.”

 

Castle Keep

“It’s not an actual castle, love,” Armitage says as Ben coos over the turrets. “It’s just some colonial throwback’s idea of where the nobility lives.”  
“Don’t ruin the atmosphere, starfish. If I want to spend Valentine’s weekend with you in an _actual castle_ then I will. It’s romantic.”  
Armitage smiles and looks up at the turrets too. “Come on then, let’s see if it’s as cold and damp as the real thing.”

Despite the imposing exterior, the Castle Keep Hotel reception area is professionally warm and welcoming with a vaulted ceiling that lends light and space. The walls are made to look like rough stone with cladding that Armitage notices because he’s trained to see patterns and within seconds he can spot where the repeating units tessellate. There are nods to gothic design here and there in the pointed arches of the doorways and the black iron fittings on the varnished wooden doors. There are also some decidedly non-gothic, pink and red, streamer-tailed, heart-shaped balloons bumping and rubbing in the corners. 

On the way past, Ben snags one and hands the streamer to Armitage. “I know you want one,” Ben says. Armitage laughs and tows it up to their room. Once the door clicks shut, Armitage pulls the stopper from the balloon and inhales some of the helium.  
Red faced and grinning, Armitage squeaks, _“Stick your finger in my tight bumhole!”_  
Ben can barely control his giggles. He takes the balloon and breathes in, then announces in a light timbered warble, _“I want to lick your delicious cock!”_  
Armitage bursts out laughing and wheezing until he’s red-faced and light-headed. He lies on the bed and Ben joins him. “We can do the thing tomorrow,” Ben says, unbuttoning Armitage’s shirt and kissing each newly-revealed patch of skin. “Tonight I want to order room service snacks and stay here with you.”

Armitage agrees readily. Ben places a room service order for later while Armitage undresses and hangs up his clothes. The bathroom has a shower big enough for two so they get in together and squabble over the shower gel for a few seconds until Ben squirts a dollop of it onto Armitage’s belly then holds him close and rubs their slippery skin together, giggling. Armitage retaliates by grabbing Ben’s arse with both hands and pressing the tip of one finger into his entrance. Ben jerks upright, squeals and laughs.  
“Let’s finish the shower,” Armitage says, massaging Ben’s buttocks and grinding against him. “Then fuck. It’s been too long.”  
“Mmhmm,” Ben agrees with a nod and a kiss. “I wish I could see you more. I’ve nothing nice booked in March. It’s all development planning and boring shit for eight weeks after this.”  
“If you can get a couple of days you could come visit,” Armitage says between kisses. “Doesn’t need much planning. Just tell me where and when to pick you up.”  
“I wish,” Ben replies with a sigh. He rinses the lather from his hair and skin then pulls Armitage under the spray to rinse off, then shuts off the water. 

Towel-dried, with hair hastily finger-combed, Armitage leads Ben back into the bedroom and gently shoves him backwards until he falls onto the bed. He clambers over Ben, straddling his hips and stroking the warm, shower-damp skin of his chest and stomach with flat hands, then leans down and kisses him. Ben pushes himself up to recline on the plump pillows.  
“Get up here,” Ben says, patting his chest. “I want you up here.”  
Armitage shuffles up. Ben leans forward and wraps his arms around Armitage’s hips, mouthing around the base of his cock and nuzzling at his balls. Armitage gives a soft laugh and moans then catches his lower lip between his teeth when Ben envelops the head of his cock and flicks his tongue around it. He grips the top of the wooden headboard and lets Ben pull him closer. 

The hot tingle starting low in his groin abates a little when Ben pulls his head back and says, “Don’t move a muscle, babe.” He looks down to see Ben smiling back up at him and one of Ben’s hands vanishes from his skin. There’s the click of a cap opening and Ben’s hand is back. Armitage gasps and _ooh_ -s at the slight shock of cold lube on his entrance then laughs when Ben holds eye contact as he slowly opens his mouth for Armitage’s cock. Since Ben’s hands are busy, Armitage puts the head of his cock onto Ben’s loose lower lip. Ben pulls him forward again and closes his mouth around Armitage’s shaft, then slides a finger into him. Armitage lets his eyes close and his head fall forward. Ben works his finger deeper, feeling around until Armitage moans and flutters his eyelids. Ben moans a reply deep in his throat, the vibrations making Armitage’s pleasure surge as Ben rubs over his prostate in the same rhythm as the movement of his lips and tongue on his cock. He grips the headboard tightly, unable to choose which way to move, and spills murmurs of praise while Ben thrusts his finger and bobs his head. In his pleasurable glow, Armitage imagines what it will be like when they are together all the time instead of meeting up for occasional weekends, but he can’t quite picture where they will be. He abandons the thought when something Ben does, perhaps a change in pace or a more insistent pressure of his finger, makes Armitage’s arousal spike so fast he can’t even garble a warning. He comes hard, wailing Ben’s name. 

As soon as he has come down enough from his climax, Armitage shuffles back down the bed, strokes Ben’s cock and fondles his balls. “Do you want me to ride this?” he suggests.  
Ben closes his eyes. “Mmm. If you want. You don’t have to. You have _very_ nice hands.”  
Armitage laughs, tightens his grip a little and increases his pace. “Decide. Hands, mouth or arse.”  
Ben groans and grips the bedspread. “Don’t care. Just don’t stop.”  
Armitage eases his knees one at a time between Ben’s legs and sinks down. He rubs the skin behind Ben’s balls with soft finger pads, holds his shaft and leans down to take the head of Ben’s cock into his mouth. He moves, pulling his tongue over the smooth skin of Ben’s cock with every lift of his head and sucking gently with every drop. Ben’s appreciation soon descends into incoherence, and Armitage speeds up, then slows down to match the breathy grunts that accompany the spasms of Ben’s orgasm.

They lie for a few minutes then Armitage says they ought to get up and brush their teeth. Ben agrees with a sleepy _mmhmm_ and Armitage would fall asleep, but a loud rap on the door and a cheerful call of, “Room service!” chases them from sleepy contentment to sudden hunger. 

Next day, they wake late and get each other off together before sharing a shower and planning their day. There’s a walk around the hotel grounds, although it is too cold to stay out for long, and lunch by an open fire in the bar. They spend the afternoon reading and chatting and laughing at each other’s past Valentine’s day catastrophes. Ben confesses that as a teenager he attempted to climb a trellis to get up to a sweetheart’s window, breaking it and falling off, then having to pay for the damage and explain to the police that he was not, in fact, breaking in. Armitage recounts a Valentine’s day when Moden sent him roses at work and he pulled apart the bouquet so that he could leave one long-stemmed pink bloom on the desk or workbench of each of his team members.  
“That was a cute thing to do,” Ben says. Armitage shrugs.  
“Would have been, but someone got the one that still had the card attached. He demanded to know why someone would write, _I am going to bend you over the hostess trolley_.” Ben’s eyebrows shoot up. Armitage grins. “He’d never seen a hostess trolley before.”

As the afternoon stretches into evening, Ben and Armitage change for dinner and walk hand in hand to the restaurant. It is bustling with couples and champagne pops pepper the buzz of conversation. Their reserved table is not yet ready and they sit by the bar, sipping prosecco and watching the small celebrations as they happen. There’s a sudden hush. Armitage scans the room, nudges Ben and points. Someone is on bended knee and someone else has her hands over her mouth and a sparkle of tears about to fall from her eyes. She nods and people clap and cheer.  
“Fucking cheek,” Ben says. “That’s _our_ thing!”  
“Not tonight,” Armitage replies, pointing at the far side of the room where the same scene is playing out with a different couple.  
Ben sighs. “Want to call it off tonight?”  
“Hardly seems worth it,” Armitage says. “Let’s eat then have an early night.”  
“Mm,” Ben nods. “What’s on the menu?”  
Armitage grins, leans over and says a little too loud, “Your ass.”

 

Hux’s House

“You already cleaned that!” Tritt walks over and tries to take the cloth from Armitage’s hand. Armitage grips it harder. “Leave it. It’s fine.”  
“But I only ever meet him in fancy hotels,” Armitage says. “What if he thinks I’m—”  
“He thinks you hung the Sun for him. He‘s not going to notice if there’s dust on the tops of the doors. Leave it.” Tritt sighs. “How are you going to cope when you’re living together?”  
Armitage has no answer. He surrenders the damp cloth and lets Tritt lead him over to the sofa and sit him down. It’s still too small and Tritt throws his arm over the back as he usually does, almost but not quite around Armitage’s shoulders. “Have you two set a date? Decided where you’ll live?”  
Armitage sighs again and it feels like the earth deflates a little in response. “No. We haven’t really talked about it.”  
Tritt frowns. “You’ve been engaged for months! Have you at least talked about the wedding? Like, picked out a venue?” He raises one eyebrow at Armitage, who looks away. “A theme, at least?”  
Armitage shakes his head. “You’ll be my best man, right?”  
“Of course,” Tritt says. “If I don’t die of old age first.” Armitage goes pink. “I’m kidding,” Tritt says. “Sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”  
“We just never got round to discussing it,” Armitage says. “That’s all.”  
“And that’s none of my business, I know,” Tritt says. “Want to watch a movie?”

Next morning, Armitage makes coffee while Tritt tidies the spare room and changes the bedding.  
“Hey,” he says, pouring coffee. “Thanks for letting me crash here again. When does he arrive?”  
“Uh,” Armitage looks at the time. “Three this afternoon. He said he’d text when he’s boarding.”  
As if on cue, Armitage’s phone chimes. He dives for it, reads the message, drops it and walks away. Tritt frowns after him. 

Upstairs, Armitage props his iPad on its stand and calls Ben. Ben’s face pixellates and settles into a rueful smile.  
“Starfish! I’m sorry, babe. Snoke’s making me work this weekend and I can’t visit.”  
“Oh.” Armitage tries to keep the disappointment and hurt from his voice. “What if I came to you? With the time difference, I could get a flight and be there in time for lunch.”  
Ben sighs and looks away. “I’d love that but I’m working on a pretty big thing for Snoke. I won’t be able to meet you or take you to dinner.”  
“Well then,” Armitage forces a smile. “Another time.” He looks up, blinks a few times and looks back at Ben’s face. “I was hoping we could discuss what’s next for us. You know, fix a date, choose a venue, argue over the guest list. Find a place to live that means neither of us has to quit and find a new job. That sort of thing.”  
“Yeah,” Ben says, chewing his lip. “We need to talk about all of that.”  
“But not now,” Armitage says, seeing the furrows in Ben’s brow. “It’s okay. It can wait.”  
“Thanks for being so understanding, babe,” Ben says with a smile. “I’ll call you later. Gotta go.”  
“Five—“ Armitage says, but Ben has already gone. Armitage plods back downstairs where Tritt is waiting with his bag slung over his shoulder. “He cancelled,” Armitage says. “Work.”  
Tritt sighs and offers Armitage a hug, then leaves. 

Armitage has booked the day off so he finishes cleaning the house, goes grocery shopping and does laundry as if it was Saturday. When he’s not occupied with trivial tasks, his mind returns to Ben. What if Ben doesn’t want to get married? What if they can’t agree where to live? What if Ben demands that he give up his job and move? What if they don’t get along when they see each other every day? What if everything sours when excitement and anticipation gives way to familiarity and dull domesticity? He counts up the number of days they have actually spent together. It amounts to a little over three weeks. Perhaps Ben is avoiding any discussion of their future together because they do not have one.

It is very late and he has calmed down a little by the time Ben calls. He summons a broad smile to mirror Ben’s expression.  
“Hey rocket-man! I’m really sorry about this weekend.”  
“It doesn’t matter,” Armitage says, clenching his fists out of frame. “We can reschedule.”  
“I can take a long weekend in the middle of April,” Ben says. “We could go somewhere. Just for us.”  
Armitage’s face falls. “April! I haven’t seen you for five weeks as it is!”  
“I know and I’m sorry, but work—”  
“Yeah, work,” Armitage snaps. “Sorry, I’m just disappointed. I was really looking forward to this weekend. I wanted to introduce you to a couple of friends and show you around, maybe show you where we make satellites and rocket parts.”  
“You have a pretty specialised career.”  
“Yes.” Armitage nods. “I have built up my reputation there over years.”  
“I bet there’s a tech company here who’d employ you,” Ben says, a hopeful look on his face.  
“Or a property firm here who’d employ you,” Armitage counters.  
Ben’s face twitches into a frown but recovers into a faint smile. “I’ve only every worked for Snoke. I can’t quit. He’d destroy me with a bad reference to stop me from leaving.”  
“I can’t quit because it’s in my contract that I owe them another three years, and if I do quit I may not work in the same field for eighteen months in case I steal tech secrets.”  
“Oh.” Ben’s face slips back into its frown. “It’s not like we can live halfway and commute, is it?”  
“No,” Armitage agrees with a sigh. 

There is a full minute of silence before Armitage voices what they are both thinking.  
“Look, we can’t make this work. I love you, Ben, but occasional weekends together in fancy hotels isn’t enough for me. I hate being on my own. I need someone who’s actually around.”  
Ben looks like he might cry. “Maybe if we wait a few months and see if—”  
“No.” Armitage rubs his face. “It’s not going to be any different. I can’t do this any more.” When he pauses to breathe, Armitage knows it’s true. “I can’t stand the highs of seeing you and the lows of the weeks in between. I need someone I could bicker over the housework with.”  
Ben sucks his lip and sighs. “So what can we do, starfish?”  
“This is so hard.” Armitage blinks rapidly. “We can’t get married. We can’t be engaged. We can’t be boyfriends.”  
Ben wipes his eyes. When he looks up his face is reddened. “Is this it? Is this the end of us?”  
Armitage nods. “I think it is.”  
“Can I call you sometimes?”  
“Better not,” Armitage says, voice barely a whisper. “Goodbye, Ben.”  
Finger hovering over the disconnect button. Armitage forces himself to smile although he knows his eyes are wet. A couple of thousand miles away, Ben forces himself to smile back.  
“Primary thruster separation in five... four... three... two... one.”  
Armitage taps his finger and Ben is gone. He leans back, sniffles once, dries his face and grits his teeth to force his tears to stop. 

Armitage gets up and washes his face in cold water, then grabs his phone. It’s after midnight but he texts Tritt anyway.  
_Broke up with Ben._  
_...I’ll be there in 20 minutes._


	9. Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With credit to @piningneedletea on twitter (lakemosaic here on AO3) for a very useful twitifc collaboration for chapters 9 and 10. The fic is vastly improved with collaboration!

Armitage sits at the brushed steel and glass topped bar nursing the single glass of wine he intends to let himself drink tonight. He’s at the end away from the doors, where he can see who is coming and going without looking like he’s watching out for someone. None of his colleagues are here, thankfully, he has chosen a suitably exclusive hotel for his Friday night entertainment. He does not need Opan’s innuendo on Monday over their weekly meeting to review last week’s progress at the new facility and set the next priorities for the Starkiller satellite cluster. Nor does he need any of his junior technicians witnessing him having a casual hook-up and feeding the gossip machine that is First Defence Technical Solutions. He glances at his screen although he has the description memorised. The man sounds like just his type.

_Tall, muscular, dark hair with a little grey, noticeable scar on face. Black suit._

He looks up again and there he is. Tall and standing like he’s proud of it. Broad shouldered and solid. Brown-black, shoulder length, wavy hair pulled back out of his deep brown eyes into a half-tail with a few silver strands lifting the colour at the temples. A silvery-pink scar slashes from his jaw up to bisect his eyebrow. Armitage’s breath stops for a few seconds and something about the man’s bearing tugs at his memory. He frowns then smiles and waves. The man’s grin lights up the room.  
“Leo, I presume?” the man says in a mellow voice. Armitage smiles wider and holds out his hand.  
“You must be Kyle”  
“You fit your description well,” says the man calling himself Kyle, looking Armitage up and down, gaze lingering on his slicked-back hair with just a single strand teased out across his forehead.  
“Yeah, well some people are not into skinny redheads and I’d rather weed those out at the start,” Armitage says. “I take it Kyle is not your real name?”  
The man laughs. “No. And Leo isn’t yours. Some men are put off by my scar. I don’t mind if you stare at it at first, until you get used to it, but I don’t want to talk about how I got it. It’s boring. If it’s a problem, I’ll leave now.”  
Armitage nods then and shakes his head. “Leo stands for low earth orbit,” he says. “I’m interested in space. Your scar actually sort of fits your face. I am curious, but it’s none of my business.”  
Something flickers in Kyle’s expression then he recovers his smile. “Would you like another drink?” he asks. “Or should we...”  
“I have a room here,” Armitage says, laying a hand on Kyle’s forearm. “We can go up now if you like, or would you prefer to have dinner with me first? I’d like dinner.”  
“That’s a new one,” Kyle says with a smirk that slides into a friendly smile. “It’s a long time since I had anything that felt like a date.” He offers his arm, which is awkwardly ignored, then follows Armitage out of the bar.

Over dinner and soft drinks they chat, but avoid anything too personal. There is no discussion of work or dating history or families. Armitage reveals nothing that would link “Leo” to his professional life, and Kyle only changes the subject from films to books to TV shows to current affairs. Armitage finds chatting with Kyle to be relaxing, and Kyle’s easy laugh suggests he feels the same. Neither man tries to coax personal information out of the other. The nagging pull at his memory remains, but Armitage dismisses it as a passing fancy, wishful thinking, a ghost projected on top of the gorgeous man he is with just for tonight.

After turning down desserts and coffee, Armitage signs for the meal and leads Kyle out of the restaurant to the elevators. As the doors close, he’s aware that Kyle is studying his profile so he turns and raises an eyebrow. “Do I have food on my face?”  
Kyle smiles. “No. It’s just... nothing.”  
“Second thoughts?” Armitage sincerely hopes not. Kyle is exactly what he needs right now.  
“Absolutely not,” Kyle says immediately. “You’re beautiful.”  
Armitage scoffs. “I look like a matchstick.”  
Kyle grins and leans closer, a warm hand sliding up under Armitage’s suit jacket to rest on the back of his waist. “You sure light _my_ fire.”

When the door slides open they are both giggling. There’s no one in the hallway so Armitage grabs Kyle’s hand and pulls him along to his room, opening the door and hauling him inside while Kyle laughs and yelps. Before the door has eased shut, Kyle has Armitage pinned against the wall and they are kissing with a desperation Armitage hasn’t felt in almost two decades. Kyle’s huge hand is massaging his groin and his cock responds eagerly. With a laugh, Armitage pushes Kyle off.  
“We have a few things to discuss first,” Armitage says, slipping off his jacket and hanging it over the back of a chair. “Like expectations and boundaries.”  
“Mm,” Kyle says, taking his jacket off too. Armitage admires the way his shirt buttons are barely able to do their job. Kyle laughs and flexes then asks, “So what do you like?”  
Armitage grins. “Oral. Fingering. Intercrural. Giving and receiving. I like anal and eating ass, but not in a one-night stand situation. Also, I would like to undress you slowly. Foreplay is nice.”  
“Fuck, I like a man who’s upfront about what he wants. Okay, yes to intercrural, oral and fingering. I brought condoms and lube.”  
Armitage sniggers. “Very gentlemanly of you, _Kyle.”_  
“Expectations. Um. Ha!” Kyle looks away. “I expect to have a good time with you, _Leo.”_  
Armitage laughs. “Me too. I like you. If you want you can stay after and I’ll even buy you breakfast, but only if you want and you don’t have to cuddle, just _be_ here. You?”  
“I expect to be able to leave when I think it’s the right time. I expect you not to ask about, or comment on, any other scars you might see or feel on me. I’m sensitive about it and I want to have the lights off.”  
Armitage cups Kyle’s jaw and kisses him gently. “Whatever you say. I’d like to see you nude because you’re built like a fucking Greek god, but I want you to be comfortable.”  
“Which Greek god did you have in mind?” Kyle asks with a smirk.  
“Well they were all divine assholes,” Armitage says, winking. “So take your pick.”

Heart in his throat, Armitage waits for Kyle to be offended, for him to have to apologise and for Kyle to scowl and leave. But Kyle’s face crinkles into laughter and Armitage sniggers. He closes the curtains and locks the door. Kyle turns the lights off. It’s way too dark and, after a thump, a curse and a few seconds spent rubbing his shin, Kyle agrees that they can have the bathroom light on so that a soft glow filters through the frosted glass of the door. Armitage walks over to Kyle and carefully slides Kyle’s tie off, keeping eye contact the whole time.  
“I want to make the most of this,” he says. “I want to undress you and take care of you.”  
Kyle licks his lower lip, swallows and nods. Armitage comes closer and smiles, traces the line of Kyle’s visible scar. “I won’t be bothered by anything you think is off-putting about your appearance. I like you.”  
Kyle nods again and closes his eyes. Armitage unbuttons Kyle’s shirt and slips his palms inside, feeling smooth warm skin on one side and puckered scar tissue, front and back, entry and exit wounds, on the other. He desperately wants to know who did this, but he won’t ask. On a whim, he bends down and kisses first the undamaged, warm, soft skin and then the lumpy scar tissue on Kyle’s other side. Kyle’s breath hitches and Armitage stands tall again and kisses Kyle’s lips. He grins into the kiss and unfastens Kyle’s pants, pushing them over Kyle’s hips so they fall to he floor. Kyle laughs too.  
“They’ll crease,” he says. “Tomorrow everyone I work with will know I left my pants on someone else’s floor all night.”  
“Does that mean you want to stay?” Armitage says.  
“I guess it does,” Kyle replies. “Does that mean I like you too? Is that okay?”  
“Yes. Well then,” Armitage says with a little laugh. “I suppose we’re in no rush.”

Armitage kisses Kyle, soft, pulling back to make Kyle chase for more. Kyle relieves Armitage of his shirt and trousers then allows himself to be steered backwards until his legs hit the bed. Armitage pushes him gently and he falls backwards onto the bedspread. Armitage clambers up and straddles him.  
“Let me do you first,” Kyle says, reaching for a condom and the lube.  
“Okay,” Armitage kisses him again. “Where do you want me?”  
“On top. Up high.” Kyle piles pillows behind his back so that he’s propped up. He guides Armitage to straddle his torso, knees very wide, and unrolls a bright red, strawberry scented condom onto his cock.  
Armitage laughs. “I smell like a fruit salad.”  
Kyle sucks on his cock and pulls off. “You taste like one too.”  
“I like your mouth,” Armitage says.  
“I like your cock.” Kyle spreads lube on his fingers and reaches behind Armitage. Armitage giggles at the slick, cold sensation of Kyle’s fingers sliding up and down his crack. Kyle dribbles more lube on his fingers then eases one into Armitage’s hole. “Is this okay?”  
“Fuck yes,” Armitage replies, voice high and breathy, and Kyle takes his cock back into his mouth and slips his finger in deeper.

Armitage gives brief direction: _slower_ and _ah just there yes!_ and _feel my balls_ while he grips tight to the headboard, eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open. When he comes, breaths heaving and muscles trembling, Kyle slows down and helps him through it then releases him gently. Armitage falls over onto his side, grinning wide. He sits up and disposes of the condom then turns to see Kyle watching him.  
“That was really good,” Armitage says. “Really, really good.” He clambers over Kyle and settles between his knees. “Changed your mind about anything you’d like?” There’s just enough glow for Armitage to see Kyle shake his head. “Well then,” he says. “Lie back and relax.”

Armitage nuzzles at Kyle’s balls until Kyle is fully hard then he unrolls a condom onto him. There’s no mistaking the colour or scent. It’s banana, and Armitage can’t help giggling about it. He sets Kyle off sniggering too. Kyle reaches down and strokes Armitage’s hair, then pulls him up for a kiss. It starts gentle but gets more passionate quickly. Kyle tastes a little of sweet strawberry flavouring. Armitage settles his weight on Kyle, grinding down with his hip and Kyle holds his head and strokes his face while they kiss.  
“I changed my mind,” Kyle says between kisses. “I want you on your back under me. I want to fuck your thighs and I want to look at your beautiful face.”  
“Okay,” Armitage says, already red with the effort of not denying his looks. He reaches for the lube. “But can I suck you for a minute first? Only your cock is magnificent. I really want it in my mouth.”  
“Not too big?” Kyle says with a slight frown.  
Armitage laughs and shakes his head. He strokes Kyle’s cock with his hand. “I’d like to ride it some day.”  
“You saying you want to see me again?”  
Armitage replies with a decisive _”mm-hmm”_ hummed around a mouthful of magnificent, banana-flavoured cock. Kyle laughs at the sensation and moans quietly when Armitage’s fingers tease under his balls. After a minute, Armitage hums again, a question in the rising tone of the sound.  
“Don’t stop what you’re doing. Don’t fucking stop.”  
Armitage hums laughter and Kyle moans again. He comes hard with Armitage’s finger thrusting in his ass and Armitage’s mouth on his cock and the fingers of Armitage’s other hand stroking the sensitive skin between his hole and his balls. When Armitage pulls away, Kyle lies back, a wide smile on his scarred face.  
“Fuck me, starfish. You’re good.”

Armitage freezes. He fumbles for the bedside light and turns it on. Kyle grips the bed covers to try to hide his scarred side but Armitage straddles him.  
“I thought...” Armitage says and stops. With one gentle finger he traces Kyle’s nose, his lips, his eyebrow. He connects the moles on Kyle’s chest now that he can see them. “I thought you looked familiar. You _felt_ familiar,” Armitage says. “It is you, isn’t it? Ben?”  
Ben nods. “I wondered if it was you at the bar but told myself it couldn’t be. I mean, what are the odds? I thought I was remembering you wrong, making some other man’s face fit my memory, making myself see what I wanted to see. _Starfish_ just slipped out.” He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “I need you to say it’s true, even though I see it really is you now. Armitage?”  
“Yes!” Armitage couldn’t hide his grin even if he wanted to.  
Ben wraps his arms around Armitage for a second, “Fuck, it’s so great to see you!”

Armitage sits on the bed while Ben gets rid of the condom. “This is a bit weird though, isn’t it?”  
“Oh, definitely,” Ben agrees. His face falls. “Do you want me to leave?”  
“No!” Armitage holds out a hand. Ben takes it and gets into bed. “Stay. I always wondered what you were up to but I never dared try to find out.”  
“Same,” Ben says after a pause. He settles down with Armitage’s head on his shoulder and Armitage’s arm across his chest, the way they used to sleep on the few nights they spent together. “I missed you.”  
“I missed you too,” Armitage replies. “So much. But it just wasn’t our time.”  
“I know,” Ben says quietly. “I understood. I wanted to be mad at you, or mad at me, or mad at _something._ But it wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

There’s a moment when Armitage wonders if Ben has fallen asleep. But he takes a deep breath, holds Armitage tighter and kisses his hair.  
“What happened? With you. After we broke it off.”  
Armitage laughs softly. “Nothing much, for a while. I didn’t want to see anyone else. No one really measured up.”  
“Is that a comment on the size of my dick?” Ben says, laughing.  
“Ass!” Armitage slaps Ben’s side then remembers about the scars. “Sorry.”  
“Doesn’t hurt. I can’t feel the skin there. Go on?”  
“I was... not at my best. I really fell for you and ending it was... Well. I was not used to being on my own so Tritt came over a lot. When his lease was up for renewal we got a bigger place together. We weren’t _together_ -together, but it was nice having him around.”  
“So you got a place with a friend.” Ben kisses Armitage again. “Who you were absolutely not boning even though it’s none of my concern because we were over.”  
“Well, only when we were both needing to let off steam.” Armitage pats Ben’s shoulder and Ben laughs. “We don’t live together any more. Tritt got my old job when I took over the company. We expanded and I moved every time I wanted to open a new facility.”  
“So,” Ben says before he knows what his question will be.  
“Nuh-huh, your turn,” Armitage says, kissing Ben’s cheek and settling his head back on Ben’s shoulder.  
“Fair. I took over from Snoke when he died. You remember Phasma? She has my old job. I paid for her to go study property management on condition she work for me afterwards.”  
“I never really worked out what your job was,” Armitage admits.  
“And you still build rockets?”  
“Satellites mainly, and specialised rocket parts to get them up into orbit. Oh! You should come see the new facility here. Tritt’s here while we get it operational.”  
Kylo holds a breath and he thinks he should be too old and too worldly-wise to feel a stab of jealousy like this. But Armitage’s casual assumption that they will spend more time together goes straight to his heart. He releases the breath then yawns. “I’d like that, babe,” he says. “How long are you in town?”  
“Another six weeks, then I’m back east for two months, then back here for a while.” Armitage is silent for a minute, playing with Ben’s hair. “I’m not tied to any particular facility any more. I could choose wherever I want for my base.”  
When there’s no response and Ben’s chest is rising and falling evenly, Armitage smiles and lets himself fall asleep too.

In the morning Armitage wakes up alone, but the bed has a warm indentation and he can hear the shower. Ben comes back after a few minutes wearing a hotel bathrobe that barely overlaps at the front and sets about making coffee. Armitage watches then gets up and plods over when Ben holds out a mug.  
“Thanks, babe.” He kisses Ben on the cheek. “Remember the first time I did that?”  
Ben laughs. “Yes. It was so cute. You were terrified and I was lost.”  
Armitage grins. “I have a meeting I can’t miss, but can I see you later?”  
Ben smiles and nods. “Dinner?”  
Armitage takes out his phone. He taps a few buttons and Ben’s phone buzzes. Armitage hoots with laughter. “You were still in my contacts and you never changed your number! Unbelievable!”  
Ben shows Armitage the screen.  
_0823 Rocket Man: where’s good for dinner?_  
“Could say the same about you, starfish!” He drinks some coffee and gathers his clothes. “Text me where you’ll be,” he says, pulling on his shirt as Armitage advances for a goodbye kiss, “and I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Ben’s almost presentable when he leaves. Armitage showers and dresses, reads his notes for his meeting, checks out of the hotel and takes a cab. Tritt is waiting for him with a sly smile on his face. “Did you have a nice evening, sweetheart?”  
“Yes, darling. Unexpectedly pleasant.” Armitage laughs. “I have a dinner date.”  
“Wow,” Tritt says, eyebrows raising and smile widening. “You found a hook-up to take your mind off years of pining over ex-fiancé Ben?”  
Armitage smiles. “You could say that,” he says then bursts into the biggest grin Tritt has ever seen. “My hook-up last night _was_ ex-fiancé Ben!”  
Tritt is flabbergasted. “You,” he says. “No. No way. You’re fucking kidding me!”  
“Nope,” Armitage says. “We had great sex and cuddled all night. He’s different, of course. I’m different. But this morning it felt like we’d hardly been apart.”  
“Oh fuck,” Tritt says, shaking his head at the sky. “This had better work out.”

The hours crawl past. Armitage’s meeting goes smoothly and he’s confident that Tritt will deal with any residual issues regarding the new facility. He has been receiving, and replying to, texts from Ben throughout the day and he’s feeling buoyant. Ben picks him up in a cab that deposits them at a quiet restaurant and they are soon seated in a booth and talking over the last twenty years. By dessert, Armitage thinks he knows more about Ben than he ever did. They make plans to spend the next day together, then say goodnight in the cab that is taking Ben home and then Armitage to the rented apartment he’s sharing with Tritt. As the cab drives off, Armitage turns to see Ben watching. He waves, and Ben waves back. His phone chimes as soon as Ben is out of sight.  
_...Miss u already starfish_  
He thinks about what to reply. He types and deletes and types and deletes and types.  
_Miss you too babe_

The cab pulls up at Armitage’s apartment and he gets out, goes inside and finds Tritt poring over a spreadsheet with a slight smile on his face.  
“Did you have a nice time?” Tritt asks, looking a little concerned.  
“Yes,” Armitage nods and smiles. “We had dinner. We talked. We kissed goodnight in the back of a taxi.”  
“I thought I’d have the place to myself tonight,” Tritt says. “Thought I might not see you for the rest of the weekend.”  
“Well, he didn’t invite me up to his place and I didn’t ask him back here.” Armitage shrugs. “We have six weeks this time, not just a weekend. I suppose we can afford some downtime. He’s picking me up at noon tomorrow.”  
“Are you dating?” Tritt says.  
Armitage tilts his head. “I suppose we are,” he says, and the thought makes him buzz with happiness.


	10. Stay

“You could,” Ben says over Skype, “just stay with me. Dating for six weeks was nice and not having you around now sucks more than I remembered. I want to see more of you when you’re here this time. Make the most of having you back in town.”  
Armitage focuses intently on Ben’s face. When Ben frowns, he frowns back. “Are you sure you can put up with me in your little apartment for six whole weeks?”  
Ben moves back and shrugs. Armitage revels in the sight: they’re both nude and relaxed after their long-distance video call. “I think we should find out,” Ben says. “It’s better than you renting an apartment on your own and us having to coordinate dinner plans and transport options and wondering if we have spare underwear at the other’s place.”  
Armitage taps his lip as he thinks about it. He’s travelling alone to oversee the next stage of his firm’s expansion, and Ben’s place is small but central. And he is curious to find out how they will get along when they simply exist in the same space together. Ben leans in again.  
“If you think it’s too cramped or too _whatever_ just say and I’ll... think of something.”  
Armitage looks at Ben’s dark eyes pleading with him through the screen and he nods. “All right. I’ll cancel the apartment and stay at your place.” He grins. “Or should I book us a hotel for six weeks?”  
Ben laughs. “Hell, no. I can’t wait to have you right here, starfish.”  
Armitage blows a kiss. “Five,” he says.  
“Four,” Ben replies.  
“Three.”  
“Two.”  
“One.”  
Ben grins. “Cleared for re-entry.”

Two days, four video calls and about a hundred texts later, Armitage is having doubts.  
“It’s not that I don’t want to be with him,” he says over cooling coffee. “I just don’t know if I want to commit to spending six weeks in his home. What if I hate it?”  
“Armitage.”  
“We had a great time dating. Maybe I should suggest we just do that again.”  
“Armitage!”  
“Then we can have dinner dates and I can stay over with him sometimes or he can stay over at the apartment when we want to—”  
“Armie!” Tritt only just stops himself from slapping his hand on the table in front of Armitage.  
Armitage glares. “I hate when you call me that!”  
“It was the least offensive way of getting you to shut up,” Tritt says. “It was that or shove your doughnut in your mouth. Make a decision. Stay with him or don’t.” Armitage sighs and looks away. Tritt smirks. “Would it make it easier for you if I said I intend to have Lusica and Peera tag along this time for the experience?”  
Armitage raises his eyebrows at the names of their two most recently employed technical experts. “The idea has merit, but it’s odd that you only bring this up now. Why was that not in the plans you submitted last week?”  
“Because Peera just received her enhanced security clearance this morning and Lusica, sorry, _Doctor Stynnix_ , passed her Ph.D. viva two days ago. They are both keen for more responsibility.”  
“I see,” Armitage says, face clearing. “That makes my decision easier.”  
“I thought it might,” breathes Tritt.  
Armitage ignores him. “Doctor Stynnix and Ms Maso can have the apartment to themselves. I’ll stay with Ben. I have no desire to share with a couple of kids.”  
“They’re both twenty six,” Tritt says. “And they’ll be snapping at our heels in no time.”

Three more days after that, Armitage is trundling his case through arrivals, looking out over the barriers. He sees Ben, waving and holding up a notice. Smiling and shaking his head, he walks over. “Ivana Goodcock. Nice.”  
Ben laughs and envelops Armitage in a hug, rocking him gently from side to side. Then he takes Armitage’s case and escorts him from the terminal building with an arm around his shoulder. “I moved my stuff,” he says. “Found some extra space for you.”  
They get into a cab and hold hands in silence all the way to Ben’s apartment building. Ben leads Armitage past the concierge and into the elevator, holding his thumb over the fingerprint reader on the controls then punching a button and standing in front of the panel, waiting for the doors to close. Armitage can barely suppress his grin. When the doors click closed, he crowds Ben into the corner and kisses him. Ben kisses back, hands on Armitage’s ass, letting Armitage untuck his shirt and slide a cool hand inside to caress bare skin. The elevator feels different to Armitage. They’ve made out in here before, always ready to spring apart if the lift stops early and anyone else opens the doors, but the ride is definitely longer than usual. When the deceleration pulls at his guts, Armitage stands up straight and waits. The doors slide open. Armitage frowns. “This isn’t your floor,” he says. “We need to go back down.”  
“This is our floor,” Ben says and steps out, offering Armitage his hand. Armitage follows out into a spacious, private hallway. Ben opens the door opposite the elevator and carries Armitage’s suitcase inside. “My old place was too small for us both so I moved into this apartment.”  
Armitage walks across the living room and looks out through the floor-to-ceiling windows where a balcony gives a view across the cityscape. “Did you rent the fucking penthouse suite?”  
Ben laughs. ”Not quite. That’s above and has its own dedicated elevator. This floor has four apartments. I got the west facing one.”  
“Can you afford it?” Armitage goes pink. “Sorry, that was rude. I mean, you moved out of your one bed place into this.”  
Ben shrugs. “Snoke owned the whole building. So I guess I’m paying rent to myself.”

The apartment is bright and spacious with cream walls, a golden wood floor with rugs to deaden echoes, and modern furniture. Ben shows Armitage how to register his biometric data so that he can come and go as he pleases, then watches while he hangs his clothes in the spare side of the walk-in closet. There is a lot of extra space, and Armitage laughs and shakes his head when Ben suggests he gets a few more things since he can’t possibly manage for six weeks with two business suits and two casual outfits. Once everything is unpacked and Armitage has showered and changed in the main bedroom’s luxurious ensuite, he realises how exhausted he is.  
“Babe?” he says. Ben looks up from where he’s lounging on the bed. “My body thinks it’s four hours later than it is. If you had plans, I’m sorry. I just want to sleep.”  
“That was my plan,” Ben says. “Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story, starfish?”  
Armitage gets into bed and nods. His eyes drift closed.  
“Once upon a time there was a filthy, terrifying space pirate who captured a handsome... Babe what’s the space equivalent of a merman?”  
Armitage doesn’t reply. Ben laughs and kisses his forehead while he sleeps.

Next morning, Armitage wakes up alone. He puts on Ben’s robe and wanders through the apartment until he finds Ben sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. Armitage perches beside him and slides a box across the countertop. “I thought I should return this,” he says after a few seconds. Ben frowns then his face relaxes into a smile. He opens the little box and takes out the contents.  
“I wanted you to keep these,” he says, looking at the two rings on his palm. “But if you’re set on giving them back I’ll respect that. Wait here.” Ben puts the emerald and platinum band back in the box and closes it, then balances the ring he bought for Armitage in a museum store on top. He comes back a couple of minutes later with a similar box and offers it to Armitage. Inside, Armitage sees the ruby ring he gave to Ben. He closes the box and puts it in his pocket. Ben takes the novelty swirling galaxy ring up again and puts it on the counter in front of Armitage. “I want you to keep this one. Just as a memento. We had a good time that week. You don’t have to wear it.”  
“I don’t need to wear it to remember,” Armitage says with a growing smile. “You were impossible to forget.” He takes the ring and gets up to pour more coffee while Ben smiles at his back.

It’s a day Armitage has scheduled for rest and recovery from the journey. His original plan would have been to get up late, go for a walk and shop for essentials for the apartment, catch up on any emails and go over his plans for this six week stay and the next phase of the facility’s development. But he has no need to shop and, since Ben has taken the day off too, no motivation to work. They spend what’s left of the morning lounging at opposite ends of the sofa and reading, legs overlapping in the space between them. Ben makes lunch, surprising Armitage with his ability to cook. In the afternoon they take time to do what Armitage calls _making love_ rather than fucking, fall asleep, wake up and get each other off again with languid kisses and touches that tease and delight before dozing until hunger sends them out for dinner. When they get home after a meal in one of Ben’s favourite restaurants, a modest, family run place, and change into sleepwear, Armitage is surprised to find that he is barely able to keep his eyes open to watch a movie. Ben pats his lap and Armitage lies down with his cheek on the thin fabric covering Ben’s thigh. He discovers quite quickly that it is possible to be tired and aroused at the same time, and when he moves his head back a little and Ben shifts to make room for him, he realises Ben is half hard too. Armitage turns and looks up at Ben.  
“Can I do anything for you?” he asks.  
Ben strokes Armitage’s hair back from his face. “Anything you like, starfish.”

Within a week, Armitage can’t imagine living anywhere else when he’s in town. Lusica and Peera stop tagging along at work by the end of the first week and settle into their own routines with their own sub-departments and Armitage only sees them at progress briefings. At the end of the second week, Peera asks Armitage how he’s finding his accommodation arrangement and Armitage directs a withering glare in her direction. “Tell Opan,” he says, hiding his amusement when Peera’s face proves he’s correct in guessing where the question really came from, “not to gossip.” Once everyone else has left his office, he deals with his emails and goes back to the apartment he easily calls _home._ Ben is still out so he opens Skype. Tritt’s face flickers into view on his screen.  
“Hello darling, everything is fine and you don’t need to order your kids to spy on me.”  
Tritt laughs. “I hear you actually laughed in a meeting this week. Are you feeling okay?”  
Armitage can’t keep the smile from his face. “I feel great,” he says. “Ben rented a bigger place so we’re not under each other’s feet all the time.”  
“I’m glad,” Tritt says with warmth. “You’re getting along well?”  
“Yes,” Armitage says. “Really well. Let me show you the apartment. Hang on...”  
Armitage swaps the camera view and walks through the apartment, giving Tritt a guided tour that includes the skyline.  
“There’s a balcony,” Armitage says, “which has a great view of the sunset.”  
“I can tell you love the apartment,” Tritt says. “What about Ben?”  
Armitage switches camera again and grins at the screen. “He loves the apartment too.”  
“You know what I mean!” Tritt says, laughing.  
“Of course I do,” Armitage says. “And of course I do. Oh! You should come out early and visit. Stay for a few days before you take over from me here.”  
“I will,” Tritt says. “I’ll email you my flights once I book.”

Tritt and Armitage say goodbye just as Ben arrives home.  
“I invited Tritt,” Armitage says after a quick kiss. “For the last few days I’m here. Is that okay? He can stay at the company apartment if he can’t be here.”  
“Of course he can stay,” Ben replies. “Sharing you will suck but this place is yours too. Invite anyone you want.” Ben grins. “As long as we can still fuck. What if he walks in on us?”  
Armitage grins back. “Then he’ll walk right out again and never mention it. Tritt and I have a long and successful history of not cockblocking each other. It’ll be fine.”  
“Great,” Ben says. “I can ask him about the mutual sympathy sex you had after we broke up.”  
“Okay he can stay at the company—”  
“I’m kidding!” Ben pulls Armitage into a hug. “I want to meet him and I promise I don’t want to know.”  
“I’ll tell him to make up something ridiculous in case you do ask,” Armitage laughs.  
“Like...” Ben pretends to think. “You gave him the best outdoor blow job of his entire life on a hotel balcony?”  
“You mean you never had better than that, babe?” Armitage asks, a smile pulling at his lips and eyes.  
Ben makes a sad face. “Nope.”  
“Is that a challenge?” Armitage says with a knowing laugh.  
Ben kisses Armitage then leads him over to the windows. “Let me show you how to get out there.”

The next night is date night. Their conversation doesn’t flow as easily as usual and Armitage thinks Ben’s in a strange mood. He says so over the dessert menu.  
“Sorry, starfish,” Ben says. He puts on a smile. “It’s just this is almost the halfway point. You’ve been here for over two weeks and you have about three weeks left.” Ben shrugs and lets his smile sag a little. “I know you’re leaving again. I guess I’m preparing myself for it.”  
Hux frowns. “Are you missing me while I’m actually sitting here?”  
“Maybe!” Ben shakes his head and laughs softly. “Can’t help it.”  
“I will be back,” Armitage says, “as often as I can. Now the company is decentralised, I can base myself at any facility. There would be a few legal issues to smooth over but I intended that if this visit went well, I would suggest that I move here permanently.”  
Ben leans forward, excitement building in his voice. “You would do that? You would move your life for me?”  
Armitage smiles and shakes his head. “For us, love. Twenty years ago I couldn’t see any way to make this happen. It has taken a long time, but now I can do this. If you want it.”  
Ben fumbles with his hands under the table and there’s a soft thud as something hits the floor. He ducks down to get it and when he’s on his knees, halfway under the table, Armitage laughs.  
“Oh this really _is_ bringing back memories! I don’t see anyone standing by with Champagne and a camera, though.”  
Ben hits his head on the underside of the table on his way back up and forces a laugh when he slides into his seat. When he shows his hands again, whatever he dropped and retrieved is not there. “We had fun though, didn’t we?”  
“Yes,” Armitage takes Ben’s hands. “The only thing I resented was not seeing you often enough. Ben, I don’t want to lose you again.”  
“You won’t, babe,” Ben says, lifting Armitage’s hands and kissing his knuckles. “Let’s skip dessert and go home.”  
As Armitage turns to ask for the check, Ben slips the ring box back into his pocket.

Next morning, while Ben goes to the basement gym, Armitage showers and borrow’s Ben’s robe then calls Tritt. He laughs when Tritt’s dishevelled hair appears and a hand, clearly not Tritt’s, ruffles it while a voice tells him not to answer.  
“Ooh, you’ve got company!” Armitage says. “Good morning, whoever you are,” he calls out. There’s a faint _G’morning!_ in reply and Armitage grins at Tritt. “Glad to see you’re having fun.”  
“I am,” Tritt says. “Unless this really can’t wait until later, I would like to continue having fun.”  
“Okay I’ll make it quick,” Armitage says. “Will you be my best man?”  
“What? For real? Is it actually on this time?”  
“I’m going to ask Ben to marry me. If he says yes, I want the shortest engagement possible.”  
“I’m on it,” Tritt says. “Now kindly fuck off, sweetheart.”  
Armitage blows Tritt a kiss. “Love you too, darling.”

The next call Armitage makes isn’t answered because it is only seven-thirty in the morning. He frets for a full minute before remembering he can go online to book somewhere fancy for dinner. There’s even a box to enter special requests, and he types and retypes the details to fit the stingy character limit. He’s just submitting the form when Ben returns. “Starfish?” Ben calls out brightly. “What would you like to do for dinner tonight? I could cook if you want.”  
“I already booked somewhere,” Armitage replies with a rueful smile. “Just waiting for confirmation. It was going to be a surprise.”  
“That’s great too,” Ben says. He’s still pink from exertion. “I’ll hit the shower.”  
Armitage rolls up the sleeves of Ben’s robe, sets the coffee maker up, lays strips of bacon under the grill then makes pancakes using the carton of batter mix in Ben’s fridge. When Ben emerges in clean shorts, finger-combing his hair, the apartment smells of smoky bacon and sweet maple syrup. “I think I love you a little more every time you cook breakfast,” Ben says when Armitage slides a heaving plate in front of him.  
“In that case,” Armitage replies over his coffee and cereal. “I will make you pancakes every day instead of just Sundays. But only if you promise to eat them nude.”  
Ben laughs. “Anything for you. You should have some too,” he says, holding up a fork laden with pancake, bacon, and dripping maple syrup. Armitage makes a face.  
“No, thank you.”  
“I love that you make my favourite breakfast for me even though you hate it,” Ben says, then stuffs the forkful into his own mouth.  
“I don’t know how you can eat it,” Armitage says taking a sip of coffee, eyes roving over Ben’s bare torso. “It’s far too sweet.”  
“You’re far too sweet,” Ben replies, smirking.  
“I’m not asking you to eat me,” Armitage says, smiling.  
Ben shakes his head but grins. “Damn,” he says.  
Armitage laughs. “Maybe later,” he says, taking his dishes to the sink and checking that the grill pan is cool enough. It is, so he pulls on the rubber gloves that hang over the tap and starts washing up.

Ben stands close behind him to slide his plate into the water. Armitage feels Ben’s hands on his hips and Ben’s lips on the side of his neck. He laughs. “What are you up to?”  
“Oh? Nothing.” Ben nuzzles at Armitage’s neck again. The sensation of the point of Ben’s tongue tracing his hairline at the back of his neck makes Armitage’s skin prickle pleasantly and he feels the first tingle of arousal.  
“I’m trying to wash up here,” he says. “That’s very distracting.”  
“Don’t mind me,” Ben replies, hands sliding to the knot holding the robe closed and tugging it free. “Oops.”  
Armitage laughs. “If I didn’t have my hands in soapy water I’d—” He stops to suck in a breath and let out out as a long _Ooooooh._  
Ben, on his knees now with both hands on Armitage’s ass, kisses the top of the cleft where his cheeks separate. “You can’t use your hands? That’s too bad.” Ben kisses Armitage again, half an inch lower. “Too bad.”  
“Fuck,” Armitage says quietly.  
“Should I stop?” Ben asks, voice barely a breath over Armitage’s pale gooseflesh.  
Armitage grips the edge of the sink. “No,” he says. “Don’t stop.”  
Ben huffs a laugh over the flesh where he’d pushed a hot, wet tongue between Armitage’s cheeks to touch his entrance and cause that delicious moan. Armitage feels the warm slick of Ben’s tongue again, flicking across his hole. Ben’s hands are flat on his cheeks, easing them apart, and a soft puff of cooler air makes him twitch. Ben laughs again and pushes his tongue across Armitage’s hole harder, wriggling the point past the tight ring of muscle while Armitage leans forward, elbows on the sides of the sink, and moans again. He’s hard and the tip of his cock brushes against the cupboard door when his hips sway forward with the next thrust from Ben’s tongue.  
“Move back, babe,” Ben says, guiding Armitage to shuffle a step or two away from the sink and plant his feet wider. Ben sucks a kiss against Armitage’s entrance, tongue alternately fluttering over his hole and pushing in, until Armitage is bent over and incoherently begging for more. Ben eases a fingertip in as far as comfort allows, probes his tongue around the pucker where his finger sticks, then eases it in further. When he twitches it, Armitage gasps. Without moving his hand away, Ben carefully nudges Armitage’s feet further apart and manoeuvres himself between Armitage’s legs. There’s not enough room for comfort but he sits with his back against the cupboard door. He catches Armitage’s cock with his free hand and angles it so that he can just take the head into his mouth.

Armitage feels his knees tremble and his feet slip. He’s propped up on his forearms, leaning forward over the sink and holding on. One of Ben’s arms supports him around the back of his thighs. He can’t decide between pushing back onto Ben’s hand to drive his finger harder, or thrusting forward into Ben’s mouth. The hot tingle deep in his core spreads through his balls and along his cock, and he tenses his legs and arms as the feeling builds and builds and he knows there is nothing he can do except give himself completely over to pleasure. He comes hard, breathing heavily, then almost falls over.  
Ben laughs and supports Armitage while he lowers himself to sit on the floor, giggling.  
“I think I drooled on your robe,” he says. “Sorry.”  
Ben smiles and strokes Armitage’s legs. “Maybe we should go shopping. Get you a robe of your own to drool on.”  
“No,” Armitage shakes his head and smiles at Ben. “I can have some of my things shipped here, if that’s okay.”  
Ben shrugs. “Have all of your things shipped here. If we need more space, we could move upstairs into Snoke’s penthouse. I’ve not been in there since—” Ben gets up and offers Armitage a hand. “Never mind. Let’s go out somewhere today.”  
“Okay,” Armitage says. “You choose somewhere and I’ll get dressed.”

To Armitage’s surprise, Ben chooses a botanical garden. They wander from garden to garden, stopping in the rose garden to kiss and using a water feature to hide the sound Ben makes when Armitage touches his ass unexpectedly. They keep seeing the same group of four twenty-somethings giggling and calling encouragement to one other, who holds a handful of pink roses. A little later, by the waterlily pond, Armitage points at an object on a bench. It’s a singe rose with a label attached, bearing a countdown and simple clue as to where to go next. Armitage coos and laughs. “Someone planned a memorable proposal,” he says.  
“I hope they say yes after all this,” Ben replies. “Grand romantic gestures can be tricky.”  
“Yes, I suppose they can,” Armitage says. “Come on, let’s not spoil their moment.”  
Ben’s casual comment weighs on Armitage’s mind, so when the restaurant calls back to say they are terribly sorry but there has been an error with the booking system and the table Armitage requested will not be available after all, he’s a little relieved. He tells Ben and Ben shrugs.  
“Let’s choose a recipe, shop for it and cook our own fancy dinner,” he says. “I kinda want to be at home tonight anyway.”

After a discussion of what to make and a trip to the store, Armitage and Ben stand side by side in the kitchen gently bickering over who should slice and who should fry. It’s resolved with a kiss, and before long there’s a warm, savoury aroma in the apartment and moussaka bubbling in the oven. Armitage and Ben relax at the kitchen island with a glass of wine each. Armitage’s phone chirps.  
“It’s Tritt,” he says. “I should call him in case it’s important.”  
“Sure,” Ben says.  
Armitage clicks call and wanders through to the bedroom.  
“Tritt?”  
 _“Hi Armitage. One day.”_  
“What?”  
 _”The shortest engagement possible where you and Ben are. You need to go get a marriage licence but then you can get married that same day if you want.”_  
“Oh! That’s... nice.”  
 _”Shit! He said no?”_  
“No I, um, haven’t asked him yet. It never seems to be the right time.”  
 _”Well, go do it now and call me back, okay? I’m holding a flight booking but I only have an hour to confirm or I’ll lose the seat.”_  
“Um...”  
 _”Don’t overthink it, sweetheart, do it.”_  
“Okay, darling.”

Armitage pockets his phone and checks he has the ring he gave Ben so long ago. He has a sudden fear that it’s bad form to use the same ring again and maybe he should wait, buy another, ask in a few days. As he’s standing looking at the ring, his phone chimes again. It’s another text from Tritt.  
 _You’re stalling, aren’t you?_  
 _Go ask him now!_  
He drops the phone, clutches the ring in his hand and goes back to Ben in the kitchen. Ben looks pensive, nervous even. Armitage frowns, but as he’s on the point of asking what’s wrong, Ben lunges forward, drops to one knee and holds up Armitage’s emerald ring.  
“Let’s actually mean it this time,” he says. “I want us to get married, starfish. Will you?”  
Armitage stares.  
“Marry me?” Ben bites his lip and his face flushes.  
Armitage opens his clenched fist and shows Ben the ruby band that contrasts with his emerald one, its circle of red gemstones mirrored by the imprint pressed into his palm. “Of course,” he says, sinking to his knees too. “Let’s take a day off and get a licence. We could be married by this time tomorrow.”  
Ben throws his arms around Armitage and laughs.

It takes more than a day to organise because neither of them can really take a day off at short notice and Armitage forgets to call Tritt back so Tritt loses his booking and can’t get another flight out soon enough. In any case, although they plan a quiet ceremony, Phasma gets wind of it and insists on reminding Ben of just how many important clients he will alienate if he doesn’t invite them. They settle on the Thursday of Armitage’s last week for a private ceremony with just the two of them plus Tritt and Phasma as witnesses, with a party on the Friday. Armitage watches in fascination as Tritt and Phasma circle around each other in mutual suspicion then settle on grudging respect that slides towards genuine friendship as their preparations progress.

The day itself dawns with an ordinariness that sets Armitage on edge. Ben senses it and holds him close under the covers.  
“I feel like I should feel... something more. I don’t know what,” Armitage confesses. “Something big.”  
Ben kisses his cheek. Armitage feels Ben’s lips curve into a smile against his skin. “We’ve waited so long for today, love. It’s not momentous or exciting or a big new start to anything. It’s us.”  
Armitage wriggles onto his side so that he can focus on Ben’s face.  
“What are you feeling?” he asks. Ben grins and squeezes Armitage’s backside.  
Instead of the flippant answer he’s anticipating, Armitage smiles when Ben says, “I just feel like it’s right, starfish.”  
“I hate that I have to leave so soon,” Armitage says, stroking Ben’s hair. “Where did six weeks go?”  
“I hate it too, babe,” Ben says with a long sigh. “I’ll miss you.”  
“At least,” Armitage says, warmth seeping into his mood at last, “next time I’m here it’s to stay.”


End file.
